


Sensates

by starkaryen



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, Blow Jobs, Bottom Hannibal, Bottom Will, Confused Will, Domestic, Eventual Smut, First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hannibal is Hannibal, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder Family, Murder Husbands, Slow Burn, Top Hannibal, Top Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-04-16 11:38:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 199,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4623987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkaryen/pseuds/starkaryen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham is consulting for the FBI on the case of the Minnesota Shrike, but things complicate and everything goes wrong. When he kills Garret Jacob Hobbs, something happens to him and he starts having hallucinations with the known serial killer Hannibal Lecter, who has been imprisoned on the Baltimore State Hospital For The Criminally Insane for three years.<br/>Or, at least, Will thinks they’re hallucinations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redkakumei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redkakumei/gifts).
  * Translation into Italiano available: [Sensates](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402465) by [Calime95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calime95/pseuds/Calime95)



> · Amazing art by [maelipie](https://twitter.com/maelipie), [HERE](https://twitter.com/maelipie/status/974003520767655936).
> 
> · Sensates fanmix [here](http://8tracks.com/starkaryen/sensates) on 8track, songs list [here](http://starkaryen.tumblr.com/post/137706426589/sensates-willhannibal-fanmix-for-this-fanfic) on tumblr.
> 
> · Sensates on Goodreads, [here](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29562326-sensates).
> 
> · [Sirenja](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirenja) made this AMAZING [edit](http://sirenja-and-the-stag.tumblr.com/post/138794639148/sensates-by-starkaryen-hello-hearing-the-voice) of Sensates, and these gorgeous gifsets: [here](http://sirenja-and-the-stag.tumblr.com/post/139179685448/hannigram-au-sensates-by-starkaryen-hello) and [here](http://sirenja-and-the-stag.tumblr.com/post/149194566088/hannibal-x-sense-8-au-by-starkaryen-oh-no-not) -gif here included- (thank you SO much♥) | dramaqueersherlock's [edit](http://femmecroft.tumblr.com/post/166477472512/s-e-n-s-a-t-e-s-hannibal-sense8-crossover-by)
> 
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> [](http://image.noelshack.com/fichiers/2018/10/4/1520542833-sensates-reunion.png)  
>  
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> 
>   
> \---
> 
> Well, this was bound to happen sooner or later: me, writing a long Hannibal fanfic... I fought against it, but here I am!
> 
> Okay, a “couple” of things:  
> \- You DO NOT need to watch Sense8 to read this, there are no spoilers from the story of Sense8, only a few references and the "Sensates" thing ;)  
> \- The story starts exactly like the show, and there are some things that will happen in a similar way. This said, for now there won't be major spoilers of season 3 or anything. If there are at some point, I'll warn it at the beginning of the chapters.  
> \- In case someone doesn’t understand it at the beginning, the italic parts will be Hannibal’s POV.  
> \- Writing about the *thing* that Sensates do is HARD, but I'll try my best. I hope it's not too confusing!  
> \- Also, about the Sensates “power”... I've tried to remain faithful to the (very little) things they explain on the show, but I've also included a few changes... You'll see that eventually.  
> \- I don’t want to promise anything, but I’ll try to publish every Friday. I’m writing this pretty fast, but I know there can be days where I won’t be able to write at all, so forgive me if at some point I’m delayed!  
> \- Check every chapter's notes! I'll be leaving songs that I'm using to write because they appear in the story, or because the lyrics remind me of Hannigram/this fic in particular :)  
>  
> 
> Also, I know I said the same in my other two Hannibal fanfics, but it is the truth, so…  
> This fic would NOT exist without [redkakumei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/redkakumei). I was watching Sense8 when the idea just appeared in my mind. A Hannibal AU with Sense8, I mean, all the possibilities! I immediately told her, and suddenly what had been a wild idea became a massive monster of many, many ideas that we started writing down. A day later, it began to take shape, and instead of a lot of mixed ideas, it started to look like an actual story; a really long story that it’s been consuming me since then. So, a lot of the ideas that you’ll read here come from her, and almost all of them come from the both of us discussing an idea and shaping it into this.  
> So, thank you so much for everything. Especially for being the Hannibal to my Will.
> 
>  
> 
> And finally, I really hope you like it!!! :)
> 
> \----
> 
> All information + links about my writing are [here](https://about.me/mizumohno).
> 
> Say hello to me @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/mizumohno) and [tumblr](http://starkaryen.tumblr.com/) :)

The trees cast shadows on the road, and Will looked up for a second. The birch trees rose like giants watching over the ground at their feet, and their branches had grown so much that the trees from one side of the road were intertwined with the ones on the other side. He thought of how beautiful they looked, even though their leaves were falling.  
  
The GPS made him return to reality when it announced that he had to take a turn. His phone rang while he went into that road, which wasn’t paved. He saw the name on the screen and he cursed quietly, but he still answered.

“Yes?”  
  
“How is it going? Did you find anything?” Jack Crawford asked him.

Will knew he should’ve told him something before going to check the address of a possible suspect, but he didn’t really have much proof. And honestly, he could almost see Jack’s face if he told him he had just decided to travel all the way to Bloomington because he “had a hunch”.

“Uhm… Yeah, I have a guy. Actually, I’m arriving to his house,” he confessed, biting his lip. “But I’m just going to check up on him, I don’t really have anything.”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me? You shouldn’t go alone to go see _any_ suspect, you know that, Will… Do I call in for backup?”  
  
“No, no! There’s no need.”  
  
“You sure…?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m almost there,” he said, looking at the GPS with the address on it, “and it will only be a five minutes talk, that’s all.”

He heard Jack sighing at the other end of the line, and then he grunted a little.

“Fine… but call in for backup _the second_ you think something’s off. Do not do anything on your own, you hear me?”  
  
“Of course, Jack.”  
  
“Okay. Be careful,” Jack told him before hanging up.

Will sighed, putting his phone back on his pocket, and hoping he could find something soon. He had a feeling about this Garret Jacob Hobbs, and his instinct was almost never wrong. But if he were… then more people would die. Because of him.  
  
The road ended on a house, and he made sure that it was the one he was looking for. Then, not without any doubts, he got out of the car, approached the door and rang the bell. Not even a minute later, a woman appeared at the threshold. 

“Yes?” she asked with a little smile.  
  
“Hello. My name is Will Graham and I work with the FBI. I was wondering if I could speak with… your husband? Garret Jacob Hobbs,” he said, almost mechanically. He was a little rusty on the field, but there were some things that you never forgot.  
  
“Is there something wrong?” she asked, frowning.  
  
“I just want to ask a couple of questions, nothing more.”

She nodded and then closed the door after telling him to excuse her for a moment.  
  
He turned around and examined the surroundings. There was almost nothing around, except for a little cabin on the side of the house, and trees. It was a lot like his own house in Wolf Trap, and he saw himself living there. It would be colder than Virginia on the winters, but that had never bothered him.  
  
Suddenly, he heard a scream inside the house that paralyzed him for a brief moment. But then his skills and instincts kicked in, and he had the gun on his hands in a second. He got the phone out of his pocket and dialed Jack, without bothering to actually talking to him. He would know that he needed help, and the GPS on the car was connected to the FBI.  
  
Then he kicked the door and it opened abruptly, broken.

“Garret Jacob Hobbs, FBI! Don’t move!”

He knew that that never worked, but it was procedure, so he had to say it. When he went through the hallway, he found the woman that had answered the door lying on the floor, covered in blood that flowed out of a cut on her throat like a river. He shook a little, and then he knelt beside her and tried to stop the blood, even though he knew it was useless; the cut was too deep, from one side to the other of the neck. The woman agonized and stopped breathing right before his eyes, and it was over too fast.  
  
Will got up with his hands shaking and covered in blood but he held the gun as firmly as he could. When he went into the kitchen, the scene he found was even darker than the one he had just left. There was a young girl (Will estimated that she couldn’t be more than eighteen) standing in the corner, struggling with the man behind her that was holding her at knifepoint. She looked scared, and their eyes met just a second before everything happened. He pointed the gun to the man, who had to be Garret Jacob Hobbs, but it didn’t matter because the minute he saw Will, he moved; he began cutting through the girl’s throat and suddenly everything was blood, everything was red. He didn’t have to think when he pulled the trigger, shooting at him, emptying all the bullets from the magazine. Then, time seemed to stop, everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. The bullets hit the man’s chest, one after the other, and Will saw him falling backwards against the kitchen counter while the girl started to fall on the floor. He could feel his hands starting to shake again, because oh god, he had just shot a man who was certainly going to die. He had _killed_ a man.  
  
And suddenly, it happened.  
  
His vision blurred for a moment, and then he felt really weird. He could feel the gun on his hand, he could see the girl hitting the floor and trying to breathe through all the blood… but at the same time, he was sitting in an office. There was a man in front of him, and he looked tired and a little annoyed when he picked up a cardboard and displayed it in front of him. He frowned when he recognized the Rorschach test. 

“Okay, let’s try again. No more games. The more you drag this, the more it takes for you to go back to your drawings and your books and shit. You know that,” the man said.  
  
“What?” he asked looking around him, because he didn’t understand what was going on.

He saw a bookshelf behind the man, and several books about psychiatry. Will also saw a few degrees hanging on the walls, but he couldn’t see the name. Everything was perfectly organized and the man was dressed in a suit. He definitely was a psychiatrist. But what was he doing there…?

_He suddenly found himself in a kitchen. It was a nice middle class house, the type of kitchen that anybody would have. But on the floor, there was a curious scene. There were two people: a man lying on the floor, with multiple shots on his chest (and somehow, in that moment he knew it was his doing), and a young girl bleeding out from a cut on her throat._  
  
_The muscle memory from his years of being a surgeon kicked in, and he knelt (but at the same time, he didn’t feel like he was the one kneeling), he dropped the gun he was holding, and he covered the wound with precision to keep her from bleeding out._

“So, what do you see?” the doctor asked him, waving the cardboard a little, impatient.  
  
“See…? You see?” another voice whispered. The voice of Garret Jacob Hobbs, who was agonizing on the floor.  
  
“I… don’t know,” he answered, although he didn’t know to whom.

When he looked around again, he saw his hands on top of the girl’s neck, covering the wound while the blood still escaped through his fingers, but much less than before. They didn’t feel like his fingers, but like somebody else’s. And… at the same time, he _knew_ those were his fingers.  
He saw on the corner of his eye a man in a grey uniform standing beside him, watching everything. With his heart racing he turned to look at him, only to find that there was no one else there. But he could’ve sworn that he had seen a man.

****

The ambulance finally arrived and Will walked alongside the stretcher, holding the girl’s hand while the paramedics continued the work they had done inside the Hobbs’ house. He finally had to let them take the girl when they got her into the ambulance, and he stepped backwards, watching the vehicle disappearing through the road in an instant. The other paramedics then started asking him if he was okay, if he was hurt, if some of all that blood was his… but he automatically answered that he was fine. And even though that was pretty much the truth, since he wasn’t physically hurt, it felt a lot like lying.

When they finally stopped asking him questions, he looked around him, searching the many faces that were now there. The Minnesota police was taking care of everything, and then they would send all the evidence to Quantico, since the case was theirs. But he wasn’t looking for a policeman. He started looking for… for what, exactly? A man on a grey uniform?

He shook his head and went into his car, where he took a pill from the glove box and dry swallowed it, trying to reduce the pain in his head.

He didn’t know what that had been, but he knew one thing: he might have started to break, at last.

****

When he reached the door with the “Jack Crawford” nameplate, he took a breath and exhaled slowly. He had taken his time going back to the FBI offices because he didn’t want to have that conversation. The part where he risked his life to catch bad guys? He was ok with that. But the other part? He was willing to pay so he didn’t have to do the talking and the paperwork that awaited him. And that was before he had experimented the weird thing that had happened to him on the field.

On the flight back to Virginia, he had had time to think and he had decided that he wasn’t going to tell anybody. It probably had been a hallucination caused by the stress of the situation, nothing more, so there was no reason to alert anyone. Because then they would start asking questions, and they would want to run tests to make sure he was fine, and that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs.

But he still had to face some things, like the one that waited in front of him. So finally, after a few more seconds of staring at the black door, he knocked.  


“Come in.”

He opened the door and Jack received him with a frown and his hands crossed on the desk. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Hi, Jack,” he said when he took a seat in front of him.  
  
“Hi, Jack? Really?” He asked, rising his voice a little. “Tell me, Will. What part of ‘a five minutes talk’ was that? Was it the dead wife? Or was it the girl who _almost_ died at the hands of his father?” Okay, he was mad. 

He remained silent, feeling his head beating with waves of pain at the rhythm of his heart. Jack sighed and stood up.

“Look, you did a great job at finding this guy. I don’t know what it was that told you it was him, but you were right. _And yet_ …” he started to say, and Will finally looked at him. He seemed less angry than five seconds ago. “You should have called in for backup.”  
  
“It was just a hunch, I… I didn’t know it would be such a disaster, Jack,” he said, leaning back on the chair.  
  
“I bet. Look, you should trust your instincts more. Just… next time you have a hunch, don’t go to have five minutes talks with possible serial murders.”

Will smiled a little, and rubbed his temples.

“You okay?”  
  
“Yes, fine. Just a bit tired,” Will told him, sighing.  
  
“Go home and come back tomorrow to fill the paperwork, if you want.”  
  
“No, no, I… I’d rather do it now and then go to sleep.”

Jack nodded and then he returned to his chair while Will got up from his. 

“Oh, and… You are not an active agent, so I technically can’t make you go to therapy for what happened, but… I highly recommend you do.”  
  
“Jack, I don’t think…”  
  
“I know it sounds like a request, but it’s really not. You have to go, at least once. You know Alana Bloom, right?”

Will sighed again, but nodded. Right after letting people run tests on him, going to therapy was on the list of things he absolutely didn’t want to do. But at least, it wouldn’t be with a total stranger.

****

Will took a coffee from the hallway vending machine and then he went into an empty office with all the papers he needed to fill out. It was going to be a long night, and all he wanted to do was go to Wolf Trap, see his dogs and sleep for two days.

He took another aspirin and swallowed it with a sip of coffee. It was pretty bad, but it was better than falling asleep on the cold table.

When he started filling out the papers, he felt his head giving him a little break from the pain, so he focused on them, telling himself that the sooner he finished, the sooner he could go home. But after forty-five minutes of one word after another, he started feeling drowsy. The letters danced in front of him and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes opened. He dropped the pen on the table and rubbed his eyes… And when he opened them again, he jumped backwards, pushing the chair back and almost tripping with it.

What it had been a plain room with only a chair and a table on the center, now was completely different. The table was still there, but now it was full of papers with drawings instead of his paperwork. The room itself was different, larger, decorated with fancy wallpaper, bookshelves full of books, a few other pieces of furniture, and… a bed against the wall. Where a man dressed in a grey uniform was sitting, with his back against the wall, his legs crossed and a book on his hands. But he wasn’t reading anymore. His gaze was locked on him.  


“What…?” he began to ask, but he didn’t know how to continue that question.  
  
“Hello.”

Hearing the voice made his heart skip a beat. The man on the grey uniform closed the book and left it aside, still looking at him. Will felt his heart racing, because it felt real. If that was a hallucination, his mind was certainly being creative.  
  
Then the man rose from the bed, and Will paralyzed. He recognized that face, as he had studied so many times his story that he could have recited it. In front of him stood The Chesapeake Ripper, Il Mostro… Hannibal Lecter. And he looked almost amused, with the hint of a smile on his lips.  
  
The hallucination with the form of Hannibal Lecter took a step forward, and he did the opposite, going backwards. The other opened his mouth, as to say something, but then Will heard a knock on the door and he raised his eyes. He was sitting on the office again, surrounded by his paperwork and the plain walls.

“Will?”

The door opened and Jack appeared behind it. He looked around him, making sure the hallucination wasn’t there anymore.

“Will?” he asked again, trying to get his attention. “What are you doing still here? I was just going home and I saw the lights. I thought everyone had left.”

Jack was waiting for a response, but then he must have saw the expression on Will’s face, because he took a step toward the table.

“Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m… I’m fine, I think I fell asleep,” he said, knowing that it wasn’t true.  
  
“Jesus, I told you to go home and get some sleep.”

This time, he agreed when Jack told him to leave the paperwork for the next day, and he refused to stay in his house for the night, but thanked him for the offer. He promised him he was okay to drive, and this was true; after what he had experienced, he surely wasn’t going to fall asleep behind the wheel.  
  
When he arrived to Wolf Trap, almost an hour later, the dogs greeted him with enthusiasm and he petted them and tried to cheer up a little. But when he finally lay on his bed, all he could think was what he had seen. He had an explanation for one thing: him having hallucinations of one of the serial killers he had studied and taught on his classes… that was kind of normal, considering his state and the experience he had just lived.  
  
But there was something he didn’t understand, and he couldn’t find an explanation for it: how could the hallucinations feel so real? Would his mind get lost in them? Would there be a moment when he couldn’t find the way back to reality…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any grammatical mistakes during the fanfic, I’m sorry. English is not my mother tongue, so I’m doing what I can :)


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra episode, since the first one is a bit short ;)

_When he woke up, the first thing he did before opening his eyes was inhaling. There was a powerful smell to which he wasn’t used, and under that, there were a lot of other scents, things he hadn’t smelled in years. But before he could guess any of them, he felt something wet on his cheek. He straightened and saw a brown dog waving his tail beside the bed. A bed that wasn’t his. And a dog that he had never seen before._

_“Interesting,” he whispered._

_In that moment, the bed moved and he looked at his right, where there he was: that man again. The man called Will and with whom he seemed to be sharing…_ something _. He didn’t know what it was, but he was more interested in what was happening than in why._

_The man was still asleep, but he appeared to be having a nightmare, since his face and hands were twitching._

_Hannibal decided to get up and he saw that the dog that had awakened him was not the only one, not at all. He started counting them out of curiosity, but failed, since some of them were moving freely around the house._

_When he went into the living room, he started looking at everything: the simple decoration, the dog beds spread through the rooms, the kitchen… He observed everything fascinated, until he heard a noise coming from the bedroom. It seemed like his host was awake._

 

Will stumbled towards the bathroom, where he began his morning routine. He still felt the remnants of his nightmare leaving his mind (he could see Garret Jacob Hobbs’ dead eyes looking at him when he closed his eyes), but surprisingly, his head didn’t hurt as much as it did lately. It was a bearable pain, so maybe it wouldn’t be a horrible day.

When he finished in the bathroom, he petted some of the dogs while going through the living room and into the kitchen. He started the coffee machine, put a mug under it, and when he turned around to open the fridge, he held to the kitchen counter while almost having a heart attack.

“Good morning.”

His hallucination of Hannibal Lecter was sitting on the table, with his hands crossed and a smile on the lips.

“Oh no, not again,” Will said, talking to himself.

He faced _him_ , who seemed peculiarly… delighted. And he had the same sensation as he had had the day before. He saw himself standing on the decorated room, but at the same time he _was_ in his kitchen. Will closed his eyes.

“Okay… it’s not real. You’re in your kitchen, and that place is not real.”

“The coffee is overflowing,” the other said in a calm tone, and Will opened his eyes.

He looked at the coffee machine and he saw that, indeed, the mug he had put was already filled and the liquid was falling.

“Shit!”

He ran to shut off the machine, and once he did, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Okay, I’m going crazy,” he said without thinking. But then he felt a pain in his chest, realizing the truth behind his words.

“Maybe you _are_ going crazy,” the other one said. Will turned to look at him and he saw him sitting on the metallic table in the center of the other room. “This is, after all, a hospital for insane people.”

He smiled after saying that, and Will turned around. He noticed for the first time the glass that separated the room where they were from the space where the door that led to the exterior was. It was an impenetrable glass with a few holes in it big enough to fit a hand, and a tray that, Will guessed, would be to pass the food and other things. He remembered that Hannibal Lecter was, indeed, imprisoned in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, after he had alleged a mental illness.

He turned to look at him, now sitting again on Will’s living room.

“Very funny,” he told himself.

He ate his breakfast as fast as he could trying to ignore Hannibal Lec- no, _the hallucination_ 's gaze, that seemed to be examining his every move. When he left the plate and cup on the dishwasher, he turned and was relieved to find his living room empty. He got dressed quickly and he got out of his house before he started hallucinating again.

That morning he had to go to Quantico to finish the paperwork, and then teach a class on the university. He got on the car while making a mental list of anything else that he had to do that day, trying not to think about _the thing_ , and then he was on his way.

“Country music? Really?”

Will squeezed the wheel because of the surprise, but managed not to move it. He turned to look at the passenger seat angry. There he was again, in his grey prison uniform, with a plastic cup of coffee. He leaned towards the buttons that controlled the music, and started to change the radio stations until the car was filled with classical music. Only then he leaned back, satisfied.

“I don’t think so,” he said, and started changing it back.

“What do you have against classical music?”

“Nothing, as long as it’s not in my car,” he pressed his lips, because he had decided not to treat the hallucination as a real thing and he had betrayed that rule already by answering him.

The second he leaned back on his seat, _he_ changed the station _again_ , and Will sighed in frustration. He was then standing in the middle of Hannibal Lecter’s room (or was it more appropriate to call it a cell?). The other one was having his breakfast on a little tray, hence the plastic cup. The hallucination took a sip, and then looked at something behind Will.

“You really should focus on the road when you’re driving,” the hallucination told him, and he frowned.

He then remembered that he was driving, and he was in his car again. He swiveled the wheel, since he had invaded the opposite lane a little. Will swallowed, trying to dissolve the lump he had on his throat. When he looked at the passenger seat, Hannibal Lecter wasn’t there anymore.

****

Will arrived at Quantico without any more incidents, but he could still feel the taste of two different coffees on his mouth when he entered the FBI building.  
When he filled out the paperwork, he went to Jack’s office to give it to him.

“Oh, by the way,” Jack told him after he had given him the papers, “this morning I received a call from Minnesota. The girl, Abigail Hobbs, she’s recovering, and she’ll be fine.”

“Really?” he asked, smiling a little.

He hadn’t thought much about her, given everything that had happened, but he felt good knowing that.

“Yes. As soon as she’s stable, they’re bringing her to a psychiatric facility in Baltimore so she can recover there.”

Will nodded at this new piece of information, and he imagined how bad the poor girl would feel, with her life so drastically changed. Jack made a pause, as if he were waiting for Will to say something.

“You know that you saved her life, right?”

He had a flashback to when he had tried to stop the bleeding. He remembered his hands, on top of her neck, the blood slipping out of his fingers… And yet it had felt like someone else was doing that. He had to close his eyes for a moment to erase that vision from his mind before looking at Jack again.

“But I didn’t do anything…” he muttered, more to himself than to Jack.

“Of course you did. They said that she would’ve bled out if it weren’t for you. You saved her, Will”

He nodded, even though he wasn’t entirely convinced. Jack told him that maybe it would be good if he went to visit her, and he agreed. The case was almost closed, but he still had questions, and maybe the only person who could answer them now was Abigail.

He left the office after Jack reminded him that ‘ _you have to go see Alana, and the sooner the better!_ ’, to which he nodded again.

More to satisfy Jack than because he actually wanted to do it, he called Alana on his way to the building where he taught his classes. They had talked a few times, and he suspected it was her who had referred to him when Jack had needed a profiler. When he told her that he needed a session, she didn’t seem surprised, so Will guessed that Jack had already talked to her. It made him feel uncomfortable to think that they were talking about him behind his back, that he was their dinner conversation. He omitted those thoughts and arranged the session with Alana for the next Monday.

****

The following day he woke up from another nightmare soaked in his own sweat and fisting the sheets. It had been a bad one; in the dream, he tried to stop the bleeding from Abigail’s neck, but it kept flowing and flowing until they were both covered in blood, and he couldn’t breathe, he was suffocating... And of course, Garret Jacob Hobbs was there, looking at him straight in the eyes and whispering in the same creepy way that he had while he was dying.

Before doing anything, he stumbled towards the bathroom and took two aspirins. He had to sit on the toilet for a few minutes until the pain started receding a little and he could start hearing his own thoughts again. After that, he took a shower and changed his sheets while Winston observed him with his head tilted, like he knew that something was going on.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he told him, and the dog whined and touched his hand with his nose. It was the newest addition to the pack, but somehow Will already felt really connected to that one. It was weird how he had so many dogs, and yet he had a different relationship with each of them.

When he got in the car to go to Quantico, he turned on his radio moving slowly, as if he could invoke his hallucinations by making the wrong move. When the country music filled the car, he looked at the passenger seat… but nothing happened. He relaxed and tried to enjoy the ride while the pills were taking effect.

****

When he dismissed that day’s class, he hurried to his car, hoping that none of the students would want to stop him to ask him anything. He usually was pleased to answer all of their questions (even if he preferred to do it via email than in person), but there were two things happening at the same time: his head hurt like hell again, and on a couple of weeks there would be a special orientation day for those who wanted to be profilers with the FBI, and everyone was overexcited about it. So he didn’t feel like facing a bunch of students asking a thousand questions about that class while he felt like his head was going to explode.

He managed to get to his car only having to say goodbyes to a couple of people, and he dry swallowed two pills the minute he got in. He stayed a couple of minutes with his head on the headrest, his eyes closed and trying to even his breathing, trying to stop seeing the little dots behind his eyelids.

“So, what are we going to do now?”

That time, he didn’t scare him. He had _felt_ something right before Hannibal Lecter had talked. Maybe he could start recognizing when he was having the episodes, if he paid attention.

Will chuckled at the use of “we”, as if they were two independent beings. His mind was certainly funny.

“You’re still going to go grocery shopping? I would love to go grocery shopping,” he said, and there was a hint of something in his voice. Melancholy?

Will sighed and opened his eyes. Lecter was in the passenger seat, looking outside the window. He had thought about going grocery shopping that morning, so he assumed his hallucination already knew what he had decided. He shook his head a little, and after checking that his head wasn’t beating like a drum anymore, he started the car. Apparently, ' _they_ ' were going to go shopping.

He arrived to the supermarket and while he walked towards the building, he tried not looking at him once. The other was walking beside him, observing everything with open curiosity... Until they went into the supermarket, where he seemed to transform. He passed in front of him and started looking at everything. Will was trying to ignore Lecter, but it was a bit difficult when a man in a grey prison uniform was going from section to section admiring everything. For a moment, he lost him and he thought he had disappeared again… But then, he appeared beside the cart and started placing things inside it.

“What are…?” Will started to ask, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t real. He was talking to a hallucination, and people would see him talking alone.

He looked at the things Lecter had taken, and he frowned. He saw vegetables that he hadn’t had since he was in high school, bottles of spices he didn’t even know how to pronounce, and things that he didn’t even want to know how much they would cost.

Will started taking everything out and tried to store them in their correct place. When he finished, he went back to the cart and found even more things. Hannibal Lecter was standing there, looking at him, so he raised an eyebrow, irritated.

“Would you stop?” he whispered.

“That think you call kitchen is completely empty. No decent person should be out of saffron.”

“Well, maybe I’m not a decent person.”

“Can I help you?”

Will jumped and turned around to find a young man looking at him. He was a store clerk, and he was looking at him with half a frown, half a smile.

“You seem to be indecisive, can help you with anything?” he repeated when Will didn’t answer.

“Oh. No, thanks, I’m just… planning a dinner.” He said, trying not to let the embarrassment show in his face.

The clerk nodded and insisted that he told him if he needed any help. Will looked at Lecter again, who was looking at him trying to suppress a smile. He grabbed the cart with more force than necessary, and started picking up things again. He didn’t empty the things _the other_ had added, because he could feel the workers and the costumers looking at him, trying to decide if he was crazy or just weird. But he couldn’t blame them; he had wondered that many times.

****

Hannibal Lecter disappeared on the way home, and Will relaxed and enjoyed the loneliness. For a hallucination, it certainly felt a lot like interacting with another human being, and it left him exhausted.

When he arrived to his house, he unpacked the groceries and found the things that Lecter had picked. There were things he didn’t even know what they were, and a bottle of wine he hadn’t seen and that looked like it cost _a lot_.

He put everything in its place, and then he decided to take a walk with the dogs. When they went outside, the dogs started trotting around, chasing squirrels, barking at a few birds that immediately flew away and inspecting every bush they could find. He felt the light breeze on his face and breathed in. The fall would be over shortly, and with it, the cold would come. But he had always liked the winter, even if he was pretty sensitive to cold.

The next day, he woke up from another nightmare, but this time much lighter than the one from the previous day. He felt his head buzzing a little, so he only took one pill that morning.

It was Saturday, so after he had had breakfast, he thought that he now had two whole days to fill with no work to do at all. Jack hadn’t given him any new files of the case, and he didn’t want to start the day by looking at files of closed or cold cases; that would mean focusing completely on them, and since he was having a rather painless morning, he decided not to do that to himself.

Instead, he started his morning grading papers from the university while a quick rain fell from the sky. But he was over too quickly; it took him less than three hours of one paper after another of interpretations on the same old case, almost all of them wrong. After taking a quick meal, Will decided to go out with the dogs again. Because of the rain, the ground was wet and the dogs got dirty pretty soon. On one hand, he was almost glad for this, because then he had to spend almost two hours bathing all of them. But on the other hand, when he finished his back hurt and he was the one who smelled like a wet dog. He took a shower and, when he got out, he took a book from his bookshelves to have his hands and his mind occupied. A couple of hours later, he looked at the clock and a thought crossed his mind: it was almost nightfall and he hadn’t had any hallucinations that day. Maybe it had been only a temporary thing, maybe he would be okay. After all, he had had a traumatic experience, and perhaps that had been his mind’s way of coping with it.

He went to the kitchen to prepare his dinner, cheered by that thought, when he felt the light change. It was like something in the air agitated: like a breeze but with no wind. He felt his theory breaking inside him.

“You should’ve bought the sea bass. It makes a perfect match with the wine I picked at the supermarket.”

Will looked at him, who was already opening the cabinets, searching for something. He suddenly had an urge of hitting him, even though he knew it was something really stupid, since he didn’t exist. And also, he had never hit anybody in his entire life, except to defend himself.

“Where is it?”

Will opened the fridge as an answer and took the wine out.

“So this is why the purchase cost me twice the usual amount?” Will asked, leaving the bottle on the counter.

“You can’t put a price on fine wines,” the other approached him and held the wine, examining it.

“Of course you can: two hundred dollars,” he said, bitterly.

Will felt a pang in his head, and he muttered a curse. He had _almost_ had a whole day without strong headaches. He decided that the wine would serve as a painkiller that night. Or, at least, it would serve to numb his mind enough so it wouldn’t start hurting too much.

He decided to try his tactic of ignoring Lecter, even though that hadn’t worked out very well, and started making dinner.

He began moving around the kitchen, taking things out of the fridge, the cabinets and drawers... And then Will was on the other side of the kitchen, and it was Hannibal Lecter who was moving around and picking things up. Somehow, that didn’t seem strange. Will leaned on the counter and watched fascinated while the other did everything. He began cooking onion and then added the green beans after a couple of minutes. Meanwhile, on another pan, he put a steak and when it was done on the outside but undercooked on the inside, he took it out. The vegetables were ready shortly, and he put everything on a plate with a few drops of Chimichurri sauce and a leaf of parsley. When it was finished, Lecter went to the living room, left the plate on the table, and turned around.

Will blinked, standing on the middle of the living room, and he went to get the wine, moving slowly. When he came back to the table, Hannibal Lecter was already seated, with his straight posture and his hands crossed over the table, looking at him. He sat and when he looked at the dish he had prepared, he frowned.

“How…?”

He glanced at Lecter again, who was now smiling, but he decided not to say anything else. His dinners usually consisted on frozen lasagnas, pre-cooked meals or, if he was feeling adventurous, something like rice or pasta. So maybe hallucinating with a serial killer with an expertise on cooking was starting to affect him in ways he couldn’t even wrap his mind around.

He started eating and he had to control himself not to groan a little when he tasted the meat. The steak was perfectly cooked, and it was the best he had ever had, the green beans were delicious, and the wine was really good, even if he didn’t know almost anything about wines.

During the meal, he refused to look at Lecter, even though he was staring at him. When he finished, he filled his glass with more wine and took the files he still had about Garret Jacob Hobbs’ case. He moved to the couch, and started going through the papers. There was still something that was missing, and even though he was dead and he couldn’t hurt more women, he still wanted to know. He had wanted to know how he chose the girls, but having met her daughter, he had a slight idea. Still, there were some holes in the story.

“Are you wondering why did he eat parts of his victims?” Lecter asked him, sitting on the couch in front of him with a glass of wine on his hands.

“No…” Will shook his head a little, without looking at him. “That was his way of honoring them. Keeping a part of them inside him. That’s why he returned Elise Nichols. She had cancer, so… he couldn’t honor her.”

He suddenly remembered who the hallucination was, and he looked at him. The irony almost made him laugh. The other seemed to be studying him.

“Hannibal Lecter didn’t do that, though. It was different for him,” Will said in a low voice, thinking out loud.

“Him?”

He smiled a little and returned to his pages.

“I am not going to treat you as if you were real.”

“Aren’t you doing it right now by answering me?” he asked him, but Will didn’t answer. “How was it different for… Hannibal Lecter?”

Will looked at him again, and smiled at the use of the third person. Hallucination or not, that conversation was _really_ weird.

“Nobody really knows why he ate his victims. Some say it was just culinary taste, others that he was simply a monster.”

“And what do you think?”

Will threw the papers inside the box that had contained them and took a long sip of wine.

“I couldn’t draw a conclusion by only having read what everybody knows about him. Hannibal Lecter is not somebody you get to understand easily.”

Lecter smiled across from him, as if his answer had satisfied him.

“You know what I don’t understand?” Will started asking after drinking again. He was starting to feel his mind numbed, and that meant the pain was bearable. “Why did my subconscious decide to take _that_ form? Is it because I somehow knew that you were the most annoying form I could’ve hallucinated with?”

“Maybe it was a matter of aesthetics,” he answered, and Will laughed, but didn’t say anything.

They fell silent, and it was Lecter’s turn to take a sip from the wine. Will wondered for a second if seeing his hallucination drink meant that he was drinking twice the quantity he thought.

“Maybe we have more in common than what you think,” Hannibal Lecter said then in a more serious tone, crossing his legs.

“Sure, we share the same brain,” he said, smiling.

“Haven’t we both killed?” he asked him, ignoring his comment.

Will looked at him again, his smile disappearing from his lips.

“Yes, but it’s different.”

“How?”

He couldn’t believe he was having that conversation with his own mind. Was he psychoanalyzing himself?

“You killed for pleasure. You enjoyed it.”

The other man then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy killing Hobbs? Didn’t you feel like it was the just thing? Didn’t he deserve it?”

Will pinched the bridge of his nose. He _had_ felt something when he had killed that man. He had felt scared, and shocked, but under all that, there was a feeling of justice, and that had scared him even more than the hallucinations.

He didn’t answer his question, because it was his mind, after all, so he knew the answer. But something else occurred to him: Hannibal Lecter didn’t have exactly a pattern like most serial killers. And yet, most of his victims had been bad people in different ways. There had been killers and other people who had committed serious crimes, and there had been others who, with a more deep investigation, had been revealed as bad: people who were mean, who were shameless, or who were rude. When he had studied Hannibal Lecter’s case, he had believed that that had been his pattern… But of course, he didn’t have a way of confirming his theory, and the former psychiatrist had always refused to talk to anyone, so nobody really knew.

Will then got up and took the glass to the sink, where he emptied the rest of the wine. After putting what was left of the bottle (he confirmed that he had drank half of it all by himself) on the fridge and cleaning everything up, he left his hallucination of Hannibal Lecter on the living room and went straight to bed.

That night, he didn’t have any dreams.


	3. Three

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was that his head was drumming with pain again, and he was tempted for a second to not open his eyes and go back to sleep. But then he noticed the second thing, and it was that it smelled really good: like coffee and food. And that wasn’t usual. He heard his stomach rumbling in response, so he got out of bed with difficulty, put a pajama pants on and then went straight to the living room. When he entered in it, he raised his eyebrows. Hannibal Lecter was on his kitchen, with an apron that he had forgotten he had on, and moving around with conviction, cooking. Will opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out; he was speechless at the scene that was taking place in front of him.

“Morning. Take a seat, please.”

Will squeezed his eyes shut for a second, and when he opened them, he decided to play along. He felt really tired despite the hours that he had slept, and he didn’t have the strength, not physical nor mental, to ask questions or fight against it. Not that day.

He went to one of the kitchen drawers to take a bottle of aspirins and then he took a seat at the table. When he had just sat, Lecter left a cup of coffee in front of him, and another in the seat across from him. Will sighed and took a sip from the coffee; it was better than his coffee usually was. He decided again not to question anything, and he took another long sip of it. A minute later, the other came back with two plates and did the same: one for him, the other on the opposite seat, where he sat after taking the apron off. It was an omelet with something he thought it was parsley on top of it.

“I’m sorry for the austerity of the breakfast. I did what I could with what… you had,” he said, taking a sip from his coffee. That morning, his hair was different. Loose, as if he hadn’t combed it, and because of that, when he moved, locks of hair fell over his forehead. “I wanted to make benedict eggs, but… Well, you lacked almost every ingredient.”

Will took a bite from the omelet, and he found that I was really good. When he looked up again, he found the other’s gaze locked upon him, expectant.

“So… how does this work? Was I cooking in my sleep?” he asked.

Hannibal Lecter just smiled, and began eating his omelet. Will opened the bottle of pills and took two, and when he swallowed them with the coffee, he found Lecter looking at him again.

“What are those for?”

“You tell me, Lecter, aren’t you a creation of my mind?” he told him, saying his name out loud for the first time.

The other nodded, as if remembering that little detail.

“You may call me Hannibal.”

“What?”

He took another bite from the omelet, and Will imitated him, at least to keep his mouth occupied.

“You called me Lecter,” he said when he had swallowed. “We’re having breakfast together, so I think it’s okay for us to be on a first name basis.”

Will chuckled a little and shook his head. Then he focused on his breakfast. He hoped he would later remember how to prepare that coffee, because it was _very_ good.

When they both finished, it was… _Hannibal_ the one who cleared the table and, for some reason, he rolled up the sleeves from his grey uniform and started doing the dishes. Will observed him with curiosity and an eyebrow raised.

“There is a dishwasher right there, you know? I mean, of course you know, because _I_ know it, so…”

He saw Hannibal smiling a little, but he didn’t stop.

“I know. But I don’t mind having something to do for a change.”

“For a change?”

He looked at Will for a second and stayed silent for a few seconds, like he was considering something.

“Believe it or not, being imprisoned doesn’t give you the chance to do a large variety of things.”

Will nodded, smiling.

“Right. You are _imprisoned_ , I had forgotten,” he said, his voice drenched with sarcasm.

And as if to reinforce Hannibal Lecter’s words, he heard a door opening and then they were in the _other_ room. The room in the prison.

“Good morning, Dr. Lecter,” a man said, entering through the doors to the space behind the glass.

Will was standing in a corner of the room, so he looked around. Hannibal Lecter was sitting on the stool, his hands interlaced over the metal table, which was now empty, as opposed to the first time he had seen it, full of drawings.

“Hello, Frederick,” he greeted the newcomer, and Will felt an immediate rejection towards him, even though he didn’t know him.

“I hope you feel animated today, because I have a little test for you to do,” he said, stopping before the tray.

Will then recognized him. It was the same man he had seen on the first hallucination. He had seen him doing a Rorschach test. Will took a step towards the glass and the man, and he waved a hand in front of him, checking something. As he suspected, he couldn’t see him; he only looked at Hannibal.

“Of course, Frederick,” Hannibal said, rising from the stool and interlacing his hands behind his back. “Nothing would make me happier on this fine morning than to take a test.”

Will suppressed a smile because of his tone.

“Watch it, _Doctor,_ ” he warned him. “You know what happens if you don’t behave.”

Hannibal nodded and didn’t make any more comments, and then the man named Frederick dropped a couple of papers with a felt-tip pen on the tray. He looked at him again, and then he left the room. The second the doors closed, the other left his post behind the table, approached the tray and took the papers.

“So how does this work exactly?” Will asked, breaking again the no-questions rule of that morning. “Am I having a hallucination about Hannibal Lecter and his day-to-day, where the rest of the people can’t see me?” he walked towards Hannibal and the table, where he had seated again with the papers on his hands.

“I’m afraid that’s something you’re going to have to find out on your own. After all, if I’m just a hallucination of your mind, I hold the same answers as you do.”

“Fair enough,” Will said, shrugging and nodding.

Will sat on the table, and Hannibal focused his attention on the test. He couldn’t see the words on them, but he was suddenly curious.

“So, what is it about?” he finally asked, not being able to contain himself.

“An empathy test,” he answered, without looking up.

Will snorted and shook his head.

“Of course it’s empathy test. They became _my_ day-to-day when I was little, so of course I was going to hallucinate with one.”

Hannibal looked at him then, and observed him for a few seconds.

“Would you do this for me? I mean, I could give fake answers, but I think it would be more interesting this way.”

He was going to start questioning how everything worked (‘ _am I not the one doing it anyway?_ ’), but he closed his mouth. What good did to keep asking questions about what was happening, if he was essentially asking himself?

“Just for the sake of curiosity,” Hannibal told him, and he held the pen between the index and the thumb.

He sighed, but finally nodded. He took the felt-tip pen from his fingers, Hannibal got up to give him his seat, and Will sat on the stool. Hannibal went to his bed, where he sat on the edge, looking at him.

Will focused on the test and read the questions. Some of them were the exact same as the ones on the tests that the doctors and therapists had made him do when he was a child and he started behaving _differently_ than the rest of the kids. ‘I can easily tell if someone else wants to enter a conversation’, ‘I prefer animals to humans’, ‘I would never break a law’… And the rating method went from ‘completely agree’ to ‘completely disagree’. He started filling out the blanks, some of the questions being really easy for him to answer, and others taking him minutes to think about.

When he finished, he stretched his back, which hurt because of the posture, and left the felt-tip pen over the papers. Will started getting up, but he was suddenly _already_ up, again in a corner of the room. He looked at Hannibal, who was getting up from the stool. But Will had _just_ been sitting there…

In that moment, the doors opened and Frederick Chilton came in again.

“Finished?” he said with a smile.

Hannibal took the test and dropped it on the tray. After that, he repeated what he had done before: he stood behind the metallic table with his fingers interlaced behind his back, and waited there. The other man took the papers and nodded, checking that it was filled out.

“Very good. I’ll come back tomorrow, to discuss the results. And if you behave, maybe you will have a special dinner.”

Hannibal nodded, swallowing, and Will felt a sudden but brief hatred towards Chilton. He closed his eyes and he waited until he slowly started feeling normal. He didn’t remember the last time he had hated someone so much, and it left a weird taste on his mouth. It reminded him of the way he felt when he had to enter the mind of a murderer, and the aftertaste it left on him.

Something wet touched his hand, and he opened his eyes to see Winston licking his fingers. He was back at his house, and Hannibal Lecter wasn’t there anymore. Will petted the dog’s head, which made the rest of the pack start rising from their beds, demanding some attention. He decided to take them out for a walk, but right when he was about to go out, he looked at the sink and he saw the dishes: half of them were washed, the other half were dirty.

****

That night he had a nightmare but, for the first time in a while, he couldn’t remember it. He still woke up soaked and had to repeat his routine on mornings like that: taking a pill, changing the sheets and taking a shower.

When he got out he changed into his finest suit, which didn’t exactly mean that it was a _fine_ suit. It was a little old and a little too big for him, but it was the best he had.

“Now you _do_ look like a college professor.”

Will turned to look at Hannibal, who was below the doorframe. He chuckled, and the other disappeared into the living room. The suit had elbow patches, and maybe he was a bit of a cliché in that moment. But the occasion wasn’t one of his classes: he had the session with Alana, and he was going to try to give her the most normal impression that he could.

He finished the tie knot and went to the living room, where Hannibal was already waiting for him with the breakfast on the table, with the dogs surrounding him, demanding a piece of food. Will clicked his tongue, and when they looked at him, he nodded with his head towards the beds, and the dogs started marching to them with their tails lowered. He wondered what they were seeing: would they see Will doing different things, adopting two positions sometimes? Or was he also hallucinating the dogs’ attention to Hannibal?

“How many do you have?” he asked him looking at the dogs, when Will took a seat in his usual spot.

“Why don’t you count them?” he answered, but that time he didn’t sound bitter. He just didn’t feel like starting with the ‘aren’t you my mind’s creation, shouldn’t you know?’  jabber.

“I can’t, every time I think I have counted them all, another one appears, or they change places.”

He smiled a little and took a spoonful of scrambled eggs and a bite of one of the toasts that were on the center of the table, and after that he took a long sip of coffee. It was even better than the previous day.

“So, you’re seeing Alana Bloom today,” he said, and Will wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.

“Yes. Jack insisted.”

“Going to therapy is good, Will. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed,” he explained, furrowing his brow, and it was almost completely true. “I just don’t like psychiatrists that much.”

Hannibal looked up from his plate. Will didn’t, but he could see him out of the corner of his eye, watching him.

“I am a psychiatrist. Aren’t you enjoying our conversations?”

“Our conversations?” he snorted. “Sure, I’m having the time of my life conversing with myself.”

Will then looked at him, and he was smiling a little. They looked at each other for a few seconds, until Will started feeling uncomfortable and stared at his breakfast again. How could a hallucination feel so… _complex_?

****

On the way to Quantico (Jack had called him the day before to tell him Dr. Bloom would be having the session there, and Will again wondered how much those two were talking about him), Hannibal changed his music again. He said he ‘ _couldn’t believe he could punish his ears with such songs’_ , and Will just sighed and rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to have an argument about his music taste with _him_.

When he got there, he walked towards the building alone, and he hoped Hannibal wouldn’t appear in the middle of the session. Having to worry about one real psychiatrist _and_ a fake one? Not his favorite scenario.

He found the door with the number Jack had given him, and he stopped with his hand raised. He tried to prepare himself for what was going to happen inside.

“Are you going to knock, or…?” Hannibal asked him.

“Jesus,” he whispered, jumping a little. He hadn’t been paying attention, so he hadn’t felt him appearing. “Don’t do this now.”

Hannibal looked amused, but didn’t say anything. And in that moment, the door opened and Alana was there, already with a smile and neatly dressed.

“Will,” she greeted him, moving aside so he could get in. “I thought I heard you.”

“Yes, I was… talking to myself, apparently,” he mumbled, a little embarrassed.

He took a seat in front of the desk, which was full of papers. He imagined Alana would be working some cases with the FBI as a consultant. The job he was _supposed_ to be doing, with the difference that his skills were more effective on the field than seated at a desk. Which was why Jack had taken him out of his retirement.

“So… how are you?” she asked him, seating across from him.

“Uhm…”

“Don’t babble, be confident,” Hannibal told him, who was sitting on the chair next to him.

Will almost looked at him, but repressed himself in the last moment.

“I’m good. As good as I can be, I guess.”

“Will,” she told him, leaning forward, “relax. Don’t worry, we’re just going to have a conversation about what happened. I’m not going to ask you about your childhood or anything like that.”

“But you’re still going to ask me questions like, ‘how does that makes me feel’, right? Or do I have to start worrying?” he joked.

“Oh, yes. There is a rule amongst psychiatrists, we _have_ to ask that question, always.”

They both laughed, and Will felt a little more relaxed, even though he still had to worry about Hannibal being there.

“Okay,” she said, picking some papers up from the desk and skimming through them. “Why don’t we begin with something simple? Why don’t you tell me what happened? Start with the facts.”

Will changed his position on the chair.

“Okay, well… You are familiar with the case, I assume?”

“I know the details, yes,” she nodded.

“That will have to do. I went to Minnesota to investigate the case, and… Well, like I told Jack, I had a hunch about one suspect. I was visiting a construction site in connection with one of the murders, and there was something off in the file of Garret Jacob Hobbs; he left a home number, but no address,” he explained, and he looked at Hannibal out of the corner of his eye for an instant. He seemed to be really interested on his narration. “So I decided to go to his house the next day, after I found his address.”

“You didn’t tell Jack about that,” it wasn’t a question.

“No. It was a hunch, so… I thought I would go there and talk to him for a few minutes, and then…”

“And then?” she asked, when he felt silent for a moment.

“And then I would know if it was him.”

“But everything went wrong…”

“But… Everything went wrong,” he repeated.

Alana nodded and waited patiently until he started talking again.

“When I went to the house, he… I think he panicked, or maybe that had been his plan all along, if he was ever caught. He killed his wife and… then tried to do the same with his daughter… He slit their throats.”

Will closed his eyes and he saw the scene again, behind his eyelids. He saw Garret Jacob Hobbs behind his daughter, and in the exact second Will entered the room, he slid the knife on her thin skin. And the blood, there was _so_ much blood...

He opened his eyes and tried to breath normally, but it came as a forced sigh.

“Will,” he heard Hannibal calling him, but he didn’t look at him.

“Here, drink a little,” Alana told him, offering him a glass from the water machine on the corner.

He drank the entire glass even though he wasn’t thirsty. Then, they looked at each other, and Will could feel the sympathy on her eyes. He hated that, so he looked at his hands instead.

“And then what happened?” she asked, after a few seconds.

Will swallowed and spun around the empty plastic glass on his hands.

“And then I shot him.”

“Why so many shots?”

Will looked at her then, frowning.

“I’m sorry?”

“On the report, it says that you shot…” she looked at the papers again, looking for the number. “Nine times. Why so many times?”

“Because I fired at him, and then he tried going at her again. He somehow felt that he _had_ to kill her, so he wasn’t going to stop,” he said, on the defensive.

“Did you feel like you had done a good thing afterwards?”

He tried to sense her tone, but he couldn’t. Was she accusing him?

“Tell her the truth,” Hannibal told him. “Tell her how you felt.”

Will looked at the floor for a moment, so he had a better perspective of Hannibal; he was looking right at him. And then he looked at her.

“It felt… just.”

Alana nodded, leaning back.

“It’s normal to feel that way, Will. It’s only human to want to make someone pay for what they’ve done. But… do you feel regret? Even… a little?”

Will chuckled then and looked at her.

“I’m not going to go on a killing spree, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I don’t think you are,” she said, smiling a little. “But do you feel regret?”

Will swallowed, and thought about it for a moment.

“Yes.”

And it was only half true. He felt bad for what he had done to himself, for how he had sentenced himself to live with it, for good. But he didn’t feel any regret about killing Garret Jacob Hobbs.

****

When they finished, she told him she would be approving his return on the field, but he had to promise to go back and see her the minute he would start feeling off. He assured her that he would, and then walked out of her office as fast as he could, leaving Hannibal behind.

He hoped he didn’t encounter anybody else, because one conversation like that was enough for a whole day for him. But when he was about to exit the building and he was already thinking on the class he had to teach that morning, he found Jack conveniently wandering on the lobby.

“Will,” he greeted him, walking beside him. “Can I walk with you to the university?”

“Sure, Jack. Is there something wrong?” he asked while they went outside and the sun made him squint.

“Not at all. How did the session with Alana go?”

Will smiled. At least he was getting straight to the point.

“Good, I think. She approved my return to the field.”

Jack stopped then, with his hands on his pockets.

“Are you? Going to go back on the field, I mean. I know I told you it would be the one case, but…”

“But you need me,” he finished for him.

Jack had convinced him to go back to the field presenting him the case. Women were dying, girls no older than eighteen, and they had almost no clues. So how could he say no? But Will knew, when he finally accepted, what he was signing for. Once they saw what he did, they always wanted more: one more murder scene, one more killer, one more case.

When Will had retired a few years ago, he had known they would be back, so when Jack approached him at one of his classes, it was something he had always been expecting. And hearing him asking him to go back to the field… He had known it from the beginning.

“Yes,” he admitted. “We need you. We can solve these cases; sooner or later we almost always solve them… But with you we can prevent a lot of murders.”

Will nodded and bit the inside of his mouth.

“You don’t have to convince me, Jack. I’m already back on the field.”

He looked at Jack then, and he saw that it was hard for him to do that, to ask him that. Jack knew, at some level, how this would affect Will. But, at the same time, Will knew that it was easy for him. Everything was reduced to a simple thing: it was a lot of lives, versus his mental health.

****

_The sun was setting, and as a result, the sky had a dark blue tone. That day there were also a few clouds, and he had been watching them turn from white to orange, like he was the one coloring them in one of his drawings…_

_In that moment, the doors that lead to the exterior opened quite abruptly, and the image disappeared around him. Frederick Chilton came in, followed by a couple of nurses. One of them was Louisa, the woman who usually brought him his dinner, and the other was new to him._

_And a fourth person came in the room, although not through the door; Will Graham appeared, looking around him confused._

_“Well, I have to admit it,” Chilton began saying, and he faked a laugh. “It was very funny, Doctor Lecter.”_

_He went to the space between the stool and the table, where they always told him that he should be when someone was in the other side of the room._

_“What was, Frederick?” he asked, pretending that he didn’t know._

_“The empathy test. You scored_ way _above the average. Funny,” Chilton repeated, this time in a more serious tone._

_“It wasn’t meant to, but I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said, curving his lips slightly._

_“Well, since you are in such a cheerful mood, I’m going to do as I promised, and you’re going to have a very special dinner today.”_

_Frederick Chilton signaled to Louisa, who obediently approached the glass’ tray and left his dinner. Hannibal saw Will looking at everything, curious, but at the same time a little uneasy._

_“I hope you like oatmeal, because that’s all you’re going to eat for a week,” Chilton told him, and Hannibal swallowed, keeping his face straight._

_Then, he signaled to the second nurse, and he approached the wall, where he pushed a button, and all the lights of his room were switched off. The only source of light in that moment came through the opened door._

_“Next time, you know what I’ll take,” he said, and Hannibal knew it wasn’t a warning; it was a dare._

_When they went out of the room, everything turned into darkness. Hannibal closed his eyes and focused on the man next to him, and then the setting changed. Will’s living room materialized around him. He was on the couch, with his glasses and a forgotten glass of whisky on the little wooden table next to him._

_“Was it… worth it? For the sake of curiosity?” Will asked, clearing his throat and then picking up his glass and taking a sip._

_Hannibal smiled a little, because Will believed he was a product of his imagination… And yet, through the maze that Will's mind was, he could feel him feeling bad for him. No, not_ for _him._ With _him. His empathy made it almost impossible for him to ignore someone’s state, even when he thought that the person wasn’t even real. Hannibal had never encountered such a thing._

_He walked to the couch in front of Will and sat._

_“Yes. It was rather entertaining,” he said, feeling the last remnants of the irritation he had felt fading._

_Will nodded and took another sip. Hannibal inhaled and smelled the whisky, along with a hundred of other scents._

_“As long as you are having fun…” Will said, and relaxed a little on his seat._

Yes _, Hannibal thought._ He was having fun for the first time in a long time.

****

That week and the next one became a series of days, tangled up among each other.

Will had his bad days, and then he had his worse days. He woke up from nightmares almost every morning, and on the nights he managed to get some sleep, his head was there to make him feel worn out all day. But the headaches never really stopped; some days the pain was bearable, others it felt like someone was squashing his brain from the inside, and he just wanted to scratch his scalp until he could reach the origin of the pain and take it out.

A silent routine was established between Will and Hannibal. Every morning, he was already waiting for him on the kitchen, with the breakfast done or almost ready. They ate in silence, or talking about things that usually led Will to wonder about the hallucinations and how they worked, but those were only the mornings when he didn’t feel like he was about to faint from the pain. On the way to work he was there too, on the car, always changing the station. Will started suspecting that he was doing it just to bother him, but that made him think of how could he interpret that it was his own mind trying to sabotage him, and that thought made his head hurt even more. The rest of the day, Hannibal usually left him alone while he was working, but he still managed to appear sometimes. But on the afternoons, he was there almost every day and they always cooked something. Or, more specifically, Will watched as Hannibal cooked…

About two days after Alana’s session, Jack told him they had a new case. Garret Jacob Hobbs’ case had been pushed aside; even if they hadn’t found all the girls’ bodies, it was unofficially closed. Jack kept insisting that Will went to see Abigail Hobbs, which he promised to do shortly because he _really_ wanted to see her: he felt somehow guilty about her situation, and the least he could do was go to see her.

The new case that Jack presented him involved a pharmacist who was using diabetic people to place them into comas, and then he would bury them alive and kept them like that so the mushrooms could grow in them until they died. Will had nightmares of him being buried alive with plants tearing him apart from the inside, but when he looked at the person who was pushing him into the dirt, he saw himself. Even so, the dreams always came back to Garret Jacob Hobbs, no matter how many nights the others lasted.

In the next case he worked on, he encountered a murderer who put people into ritualistic like positions, with the flesh on their backs cut and opened to make them look like angel wings. Hannibal appeared beside him when he was at one of the crime scenes, and he observed it captivated. Will thought that he was, after all, hallucinating with a serial killer that had liked to made art out of some of his victims’ bodies. The night after they discovered the first corpses and Will entered that killer’s psyche, he woke up on the roof of his house, sleepwalking. When he came back inside, Hannibal appeared and he just started preparing breakfast without saying a word.

And then, after two weeks, the following came and he had to face several things. One: he couldn’t delay going to see Abigail Hobbs anymore. Two: orientation day at Quantico. Three: his hallucinations started lasting longer and longer, which meant he was seeing Hannibal more every day. Four: he started getting worse.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I just wanted to say, thanks to everyone who read the first two chapters of this fic and to the ones who left kudos and comments. Thanks A LOT ♥♥


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking about making a fanmix for this, because I'm using a lot of songs as an inspiration to write and I'll even mention some of them on the story itself. But in the meantime, I'll be leaving on the notes at the end the songs that have some relevance on each chapter (if there are any!) or on the fic in general.

 

“Why don’t you have a television?”

Will was sitting at the table; he took two pills and swallowed them with a sip of coffee, and then he looked at Hannibal, who was dancing around the kitchen. A few days back, he had gone to do some grocery shopping, and Will had just let Hannibal take whatever he wanted so he didn’t make another scene, as long as it didn’t cost him an arm and a leg. So now he was making what he guessed that were eggs Benedict and a juice that he still couldn’t see, and he seemed really focused on it. Or, at least, Will had thought he was.

“A television? That doesn’t sound very Hannibal Lecterish,” he said, resting his head on his hands and rubbing his temples. That day was a bad one, but at least it wasn’t one of the worst ones.

“Even I can’t evade some clichés from time to time. Have you heard the phrase ‘you want what you can’t have’?”

Will looked at him raising his head just a little, and he found Hannibal walking towards him with two glasses of juice. When he left them on the table, Will couldn’t help to look at them with a face of disgust.

“Don’t look at it like that, it’s not like I served you blood,” he said smiling, and Will looked at him serious, not finding his joke funny. “It’s only pomegranate juice. Try it, it’s very good for cholesterol.”

“Fantastic, the only problem I _don’t_ have.”

Hannibal went back to the kitchen and he tried the juice when he wasn’t looking. Surprisingly, it was really good, even though it _did_ look disturbingly like blood.

“So, why don’t you have a television, then?”

Will leaned back on his seat and sighed.

“I don’t know, I never had one when I was a kid, so I guess I’ve never really thought of getting one.”

“You _never_ had one?”

He opened his mouth, ready to fire his usual answer to him: he was a creation of his mind, why was he asking him things he already knew? But he decided, once again, to play along.

“No. My father and I moved a lot, and we didn’t really have much money. But… I don’t know, it’s not like I ever missed having a TV.”

Hannibal left two plates on the table with two perfect looking eggs Benedict on each one.

“You were always the new boy at school, then. Always new cities, new houses,” Hannibal guessed, sitting across from him.

“Yeah, always.”

“That had to be difficult for a child.”

Will took his fork and shrugged a little, looking at him. Hannibal seemed _genuinely_ interested in that conversation.

“What about your mother?” he asked, trying his own dish.

“There’s not much to say about her. I never knew her.”

Will finally tried the eggs Benedict, and he closed his eyes for a second. That was the best breakfast he had ever had.

“This is so good,” he said without being able to control himself.

Hannibal smiled, satisfied, and they ate the rest of the breakfast in silence.

An hour later he was on his way to Baltimore, Maryland, with Hannibal next to him changing the radio, as usual, and an hour after that, he was arriving to the psychiatric facility where Abigail Hobbs was recovering.

The day before, Jack had finally shared his true intentions with him, why he had insisted so much that Will went so see her. He had told him that he suspected of Abigail, and when Will had frowned, he had said that ‘ _she would’ve been the perfect bait’_ for her father’s victims. Jack’s theory was that, given that Garret Jacob Hobbs had found the girls in the university campuses he had visited with his daughter, Abigail had to have something to do with that. And given that some of the bodies were yet to be found, he thought Abigail could know something. Will had rejected that idea, but the truth was, he couldn’t be sure.

When he arrived, a nurse walked him to Abigail’s room, and mentioned that ‘ _he was the second visit she had had that day’_. Will didn’t say anything, but he frowned.

“This is the room,” the nurse told him, and he thanked him.

Will knocked on the door, and a voice told him to come in. When he did, he immediately felt a pang of guilt as he saw her face for the first time since _that_ day. Abigail Hobbs was lying on the bed, with her neck bandaged and a book on her hands. He took his glasses off and pocketed them; he hadn’t worn them lately because they made him dizzy sometimes, and that made his head hurt even more, but he needed them to drive.

“Hello, Abigail. My name’s Will Graham, I’m a special agent with the FBI,” he said, standing in front of the bed.

“I know,” she said, tilting her head a little with her gaze locked upon him.

“You remember me?”

“Yes. You killed my father,” she said, plainly, and Will stood there, caught off guard. “But I also know who you are because that woman told me.”

Will frowned for a second.

“Woman? What woman?”

Hannibal appeared at his side, looking at her.

“Freddie Lounds,” Abigail said, closing the book and leaving it aside.

“Freddie Lounds? She’s… a journalist in Tattlecrime?” he asked, unsure. He knew about Tattlecrime, but he never read it. It was the tabloid of the criminal newspapers; they weren’t worried about the truth, only about selling papers.

“Yes. She told me you weren’t a real agent, that you had failed the test… because you were insane.”

Will opened his mouth, unsure of what to say.

“That’s… great,” he said ironically, feeling a little sick at the thought of someone he had never met calling him insane. And besides, even though it wasn’t strictly true, he couldn’t exactly defend himself against that accusation.

“Don’t worry… I didn’t believe her,” she told him, and smiled a little for a second, at which Will caught his breath.

They went for a walk on the gardens of the facility, and Will helped her, since she was still weak for all the time she was spending on a bed. The _garden_ was an enclosed space, which was a little depressing, but he dismissed that thought and focused on Abigail.

“I’m really sorry that I couldn’t save your mother. Everything happened too fast, and I couldn’t do anything for her,” Will told her once they sat down.

“I know… I saw him killing her. And I… couldn’t do anything to stop him.”

Abigail was silent for a moment, and Hannibal, who had followed them a step behind, took a step forward.

“Couldn’t or didn’t want to?” he asked, and Will ignored him.

“It’s ok, Abigail. I don’t think there was anything you could’ve done to stop him. Your father… he was all kinds of wrong.”

Abigail looked away and then her eyes began to tear up.

“Yeah… And now I’ll be sick too, won’t I? Because of everything I saw?”

“Ask her if that’s how her father made her feel,” Hannibal told him, and Will dismissed him again.

“What you lived, Abigail, was… something that you will always remember. There is no getting used to it. Believe me, I know. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to be like your father.”

Abigail nodded, and she caught a tear before it dropped.

“Did it… affect you? Having to kill someone, even when you had to?” she asked him in a low voice, and Will sighed before answering.

“Yes, I could say that it… affected me,” he saw Hannibal out of the corner of his eye. “Killing someone felt… awful,” Will confessed to her.

He did not tell her that, along with that feeling, there was an underlying one; the feeling of having done something right, even if it felt horribly wrong.

“I have nightmares about him, almost every night. Nightmares of the moment when he took me and told me… that he was going to fix everything, that he was going to make everything disappear,” Abigail told him, and Will felt himself getting sick at that thought.

“I also have nightmares,” he told her. “About the cases I work on, but mostly about him, too.”

Abigail smiled at him, thankful for having someone to share her thoughts with, and Will felt somehow the same, since he had talked about that with only two people; the first one wasn’t real, and Alana and him didn’t share the connection he had with Abigail. They both had been in the same situation, and they had been the only two people to get out of that house alive.

“You should ask her about what her father and her did when they visited the campuses,” Hannibal asked, and again, Will tried to ignore him. But he knelt between him and Abigail so he _had_ to look at him. “Ask her about the times they went hunting. Ask her-”

“Shut up!” he snapped, and Hannibal stood up and stepped back, smiling.

Will realized in that moment what he had just done.

“Who… are you talking to?” Abigail asked, but for some reason, she seemed amused.

“Sorry, I… Nobody. I was just thinking about something else,” it was a lame excuse, but it was the first thing that came to his mind. He wondered if she was now pondering on what Freddie Lounds had told her about him being insane. “Abigail, can I ask you… what did that woman want with you?”

“The journalist?” and she paused for a moment when he nodded. “She offered to write a book with my side of the story.”

“What?” Will asked, suddenly outraged. If he had wondered if that woman had any integrity, he didn’t have any doubts now.

“I told her no, but… I may have to think about it,” she said, and she hurried to excuse herself when she saw the look on Will’s face. “All my family’s money is going to the victim’s families, so… I won’t have anything. I can’t go to university now, and who is going to want to hire the daughter of the Minnesota Shrike?”

Will was about to say something, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t want to make some sympathetic comment that they both would know was false.

“I just want to go home…” Abigail whispered, staring off into space.

Will just touched her hand with his, trying to comfort her, but feeling her worry as his own.

****

“I like her.”

Will took his eyes off the road for a second to look at Hannibal, who was on the passenger seat looking at the horizon. The window was rolled down, and the wind that came in was pulling his hair backwards.

“Abigail?” Will asked, focusing on the road again.

“Yes. She is remarkable.”

“Oh,” he said, surprised. He didn’t know what to make of that information.

“What are you going to tell Jack?” he asked, and Will knew what he meant.

He hadn’t wanted to question her about his father as Jack had wanted, but he suspected she was hiding something.

“I don’t know,” he said, telling the truth. He had felt a strong connection with Abigail, and he already felt bad enough for what he had done to her. The last thing he wanted to do was put that girl under a situation like being questioned and investigated after everything she had been through.

“You feel guilty, don’t you?” Hannibal asked then, looking at him. “Because you orphaned her.”

Will opened his mouth to deny it, but why bother?

“In some way, yes. I _am_ responsible for her situation. I mean, maybe… if I had done things differently, her mother would still be alive,” he said, lowering his voice.

“No good comes from dwelling too much in the past, Will. What is done, is done. Perhaps you should think of what you could do for her now.”

“What do you mean?” he frowned.

“You are suddenly the only person she can trust, the person who saved her life,” Hannibal started saying, and Will could feel his eyes locked on him. “Maybe you could also become a sort of paternal figure. To guide and help her.”

Will looked at him for a moment, and smiled.

“Sure. I am talking to a hallucination with the form of a serial killer who happens to think I am suitable to adopt a girl who was just orphaned by… me.”

And then Will started laughing, because it sounded very ridiculous once he had said it out loud. When he could control himself, he realized that there was classical music filling the car, and he shook his head, but didn’t lose his smile.

“Oh come on, not again with the…”

He was going to change it back, but he found that the radio was off… And Hannibal wasn’t in the car anymore.

_Back in his room, Hannibal sat on the bed and closed his eyes, listening to the classical music that the staff was playing on the speakers for his delight. But his thoughts went rapidly back to Will Graham and Abigail Hobbs. What he would give to be physically there, with both of them. He could see so much potential in them, like two unpolished gemstones ready for someone to apply the correct pressure. It was a shame he couldn’t actually be there to guide them both properly... But at least he had Will, and he was starting to form such great plans for him._

****

When he arrived to Wolf Trap, he ate his lunch. This consisted on the previous day’s leftovers, which was an amazing casserole he had made, although he still wasn’t sure how all of the sudden he was able to make all those meals.

On the afternoon, he walked the dogs for a good hour, and they even got to the nearest lake. He sat down there, watching the water that wasn’t frozen yet, and he thought about how long it had been since he had sailed or gone fishing. He made a promise to himself of going fishing before the winter came, but with the chaos that his life was turning into, he doubted he could actually find the time or the strength to do it.

When he came back to the house, he was freezing and feeling a little sick, so he decided to light the fireplace for the first time since the summer had begun. He took a few logs from the cabin outside of his house and then put them in the fireplace. When he started it, he sat on the nearest couch and felt the immediate warmth of the fire. He closed his eyes and hugged himself while he was still shaking a little. Will felt the flames heating his clothes and, before he could realize it, he fell asleep.

He woke up a couple of hours later, straightening abruptly, with his heart racing in his chest and trying to breathe normally again. He had had a nightmare in which he was with Abigail in the middle of the woods. And everything was fine at the beginning, but then everything had gone horribly wrong and he had ended up trying to slice her throat. He had woken up right when he felt the knife cutting through her skin.

He was soaked because of the nightmare, so he went to the bathroom, took a pill and then went into the shower. He only started feeling better when the hot water slowly relaxed his muscles, but even then he could still feel tensed and a bit sick.

Once he got out and dressed in clean clothes, he looked through the window and saw that it was already pitch black outside. The logs from the fireplace had almost consumed, so he tossed a couple more and rekindled the fire. And then he noticed something: it was dinnertime, and Hannibal wasn’t there. Since the first night where he had been there at that time, he barely hadn’t missed one dinner. He recalled the conversation in the car, and a thought crossed his mind: maybe Will had offended him.

Will rubbed his temples then for two reasons: one, the pill was making little to none effect. Two, he was thinking about his hallucinations as if it were a real person, with feelings. He dismissed that thought and buried it in he deepest part of his mind.

But, real or not, when he prepared his dinner (a frozen lasagna that had been sitting on his freezer for far too long) and started eating alone, suddenly the silence became unbearable. Everything was too still, too empty, and even the dogs seemed to be quieter than usual.

He had to stand up in the middle of his dinner and put some music on the CD player. For the first time in his life, he wished he had a television so he could hear other people’s voices in the background.

****

Will heard the ringtone of his phone while he was drying with his towel after a quick morning shower. He cursed and tried to wrap it around his waist, but he gave up and went out of the bathroom holding the two ends of the towel with one hand while he searched for his phone on the abandoned jeans he had worn the previous day.

“Will,” he said when he finally answered it. He had seen the name of Jack on the screen, so he guessed what the call was about before he said anything.

“We’ve got a case,” he said. ‘ _Good morning to you too, Jack’_ , Will thought. The towel started slipping down, and he tried to grasp it unsuccessfully.

“Okay, send me the address and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay. But you don’t have to be in a rush, it’s going to be a while until the scene can be cleared for you.”

Jack hung up after saying that, and Will frowned at the phone.

“Goodbye,” he said to nobody, and left the phone on top of his dresser.

He threw the towel on the floor and opened one of the drawers to take his underwear.

“Is there a new case?”

Will jumped and smashed his body against the dresser. He picked the towel from the floor and tried to cover himself while he turned to look at him. Hannibal was sitting on Will’s bed, with his back against the wall and the legs half on the mattress, half hanging over the edge.

“Oh my… What the hell?!” he yelled, still adjusting the towel.

Hannibal had Will’s laptop on his lap, and he seemed more focused on the screen than on him, but in that moment he looked up and Will felt himself turning abruptly red. Again, real or not, there was a man on his bed that may have seen him naked, and that was now staring at him. And somehow, he felt more naked in that moment than he had felt a second before.

“Did Jack tell you anything about the case?” he asked, calmly.

“Hey! A little privacy, please?” Will said, pointing at himself.

Hannibal smiled and focused on the screen again, where he finished doing whatever he had been doing, and then closed it.

“Don’t you like being watched?”

“Wh-What…? No! Of course not!” he exclaimed, and he tried to cover more of his body with the towel.

“And yet you claim that I’m a creation of your subconscious… and here I am,” he said, and then started lowering his gaze, tilting his head as if he was studying him. Will felt his face burning.

“Stop it, get out!”

Hannibal smiled showing his teeth. He finally left the laptop on top of the unmade bed, and slowly walked out of his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Will could’ve sworn he heard him chuckling.

Once he was out, Will breathed out, since he had been holding his breath. He got dressed after making sure that the door was really closed, and then he took a moment to listen; on the adjacent room he could hear noise. Some of the dogs were moving from one room to another, or getting up from their beds. But not only that; he heard plates and glasses being taken out of the cupboards, and the unmistakable sound of eggs being beaten with a balloon whisk. And he smiled a little, because it may just be a hallucination, but somehow it was comforting.

He went to the living room and sat at his usual spot. It didn’t take too long before Hannibal went to the table with two glasses of orange juice, and this was followed by two cups of coffee, two omelets and toasts.

When the other sat across from him, Will remembered the day before, and he drank his glass of orange juice in one gulp, trying to fight the words he wanted to say, because they sounded childish in his mind.

“Are you mad?” Will asked finally, and regretted it immediately. It sounded even worse out loud.

Hannibal stopped with the glass touching his lips, and he lowered it.

“Mad?” he asked, smiling a bit.

“Well… you didn’t come last night,” he said quickly.

“Ah, yes, I’m really sorry. I completely lost track of time.”

“Oh, okay,” Will nodded and took a bite from his omelet.

He didn’t want to look at Hannibal, but he finally had to, and he did _not_ seem mad. But he did seem… _curious_.

“Why would I be mad?”

“Oh, nothing, it was just…”

“Will,” he said, and the sound of his name on his lips silenced him. “Why would I be mad?”

“Well, you know… because of yesterday? On the car, when I… laughed at your idea.”

Will thought he saw something on his eyes, but it was gone before he could be sure. Hannibal took a sip from his coffee, and then started buttering a toast.

“I am not going to be mad just because you found my idea ridiculous. _That_ would be ridiculous.”

Will bit his lip and lowered his gaze, in order to avoid the eye contact.

“Just so you know, it’s not… It wasn’t the idea what I found ridiculous. It’s just… It’s because of me.”

When he looked at him again, Hannibal was staring at him.

“You think the idea of you acting as some sort of surrogate father is ridiculous,” he guessed, tilting his head a bit. “Because of… what you are.”

Will tried to laugh, but he found himself fighting back the tears that threatened to come out. He was his subconscious, after all, and he had just said what he thought.

He had always known that there was something wrong with him. He didn’t know if the empathy helped fighting back the darkness inside him, or if on the contrary, it helped growing it, but he had been afraid of himself during his whole life. Always controlling himself, always dismissing the darkest thoughts of his mind, always keeping his demons locked in the deepest corner. But now he couldn’t even know if he could keep fighting against it. What if some day he wasn’t able to control it anymore, just like he couldn’t stop the hallucinations? What if, some day, he was at the other end in one of the murder scenes, and he was not the one recreating them in his mind… but creating them in reality?

****

When he got on the car to go to the address Jack had sent him, he avoided looking at Hannibal, but he could still see him out of the corner of his eye. He hadn’t answered his question on the breakfast, but the other knew the answer anyway.

Will decided to put a CD that he had on the car instead of the radio, even though he didn’t remember what the CD was. So when the voice of Johnny Cash filled the car with ‘ _Hurt_ ’, he had to snap out of it and remind himself that there was a murder scene waiting for him. He finally started the car and began driving, with the incredibly sad and beautiful song sounding through the speakers.

He remembered that, when he was a kid, his father used to listen to country music all the time. When they were in the car, or when he was working at the shipyards and turned the radio on… always country music. That was probably why Will listened to it now. It was something familiar, a sound he was already used to. But Johnny Cash had been his father’s favorite, and that hadn’t been a background sound, but a thing he listened to when he wasn’t doing anything else that could distract him. If he closed his eyes, he could clearly see his father sitting on a porch with the spring breeze messing his hair, drinking beer and listening to Johnny Cash after a hard day of work. That one hadn’t been among his songs, obviously, since he had died long before the song was even released. But it still reminded him of his father.

Will remembered Hannibal’s presence and he looked at him briefly. He was looking out the window, and he had an expression that he couldn’t discern.

“You’re not changing the music today?” he asked, trying to lighten the gravity on the air.

“Today is not that terrible.”

He looked at him again and their eyes met for a second before both of them looked away.

****

_He retired to his room once Will arrived to the crime scene. He had been interested in them at first, especially seeing how he was able to know so much by just looking at the scene… But he started being a little uncomfortable when Will entered the killer’s mind. Hannibal could feel then what the other felt, even if it was lessened, and it wasn’t the criminal mind that made him feel uneasy, but Will’s. It was like two rocks colliding, two different personalities crashing inside one mind, and he was absolutely fascinated, but feeling it inside him was the strangest thing he had ever experienced._

_The morning went by quickly, as it happened usually when he was drawing. He used to withdraw to the corner of his mind where he kept all the things he considered beautiful. The incredibly appealing buildings of Italy were there, waiting for him to walk among their streets like he had done years ago. But even beauty didn’t last forever, and while he had that thought in mind, the doors opened and his concentration was broken. He knew it had to be the lunch, but when he raised his eyes, he found Frederick Chilton behind the glass. He immediately felt his good mood decaying._

_“Good afternoon, Dr. Lecter,” he greeted him, cheerful._

_“Good afternoon, Dr. Chilton.”_

_“Well, your favorite day has come. It’s cleaning day!”_

_Hannibal blinked and sighed, trying to maintain his façade._

_“My very favorite day,” he said, ironically._

_Frederick Chilton called it cleaning day, but the truth was that every month there was at least one day where he would search his room with the excuse of checking that he wasn’t hiding anything or digging a hole out of the Hospital with a plastic spoon. In reality, Hannibal knew that Chilton loved those days, because they meant that he was able to roam around his room, trying to take a peek at his brain by walking among his things. And he couldn’t do anything to avoid it._

_Once the nurses and guards started entering, he approached the glass as they told him, and a guard handcuffed him once he had gotten his hands out through two different holes._

_And then, the three doors that separated his room from the other side of the glass started opening and at least five people entered in the place that he couldn’t even call his own._

_Two people stood guard by the door, while two others started cleaning everything (the excuse had to be maintained, after all). And then there was Chilton, who started wandering through the room. Hannibal was facing the glass, so he wasn’t looking, but he could hear him walking by his bed, approaching the bookshelves and taking his books... And probably returning them in the incorrect place, just to bother him._

_“What are they doing?”_

_Hannibal turned to look at Will, who had appeared beside him. He heard the indistinctive chatter of people on a public space, so he focused a little on him, enough to see that he was on a roadside café eating a quick meal, probably on his way back from the crime scene. But Hannibal had to focus back on his own room, because he couldn’t let his mind travel to another place in that moment._

_“Beautiful drawings, Dr. Lecter,” Chilton said._

_He heard him taking them, probably carelessly, and he closed his eyes for a second, feeling his rage growing inside him. When he had had his fun touching everything he could, he approached him at a distance that he was sure Hannibal couldn’t reach him if he tried to._

_“I’m thinking that we should have more talks, you and I. Discussions, maybe an interview in which you tell me something new? And we should definitely make more tests from now on. Would you like that?” he said, loud enough for him to hear but low enough for the rest of the people in the room._

_“You know how much I like tests, Frederick.”_

_“Ah, yes, I know. That’s why I’m thinking… Every time you give me a sarcastic response, or an answer I don’t like… I’m going to take something from you. But oh, look at that, I’m feeling generous. The first thing that I will take will be the bed. And maybe the next one will be the toilet. And… I mean, it is illegal to record the inmates twenty-four hours a day, but… maybe we will forget to switch off the cameras. I mean, sometimes we are a little distracted…”_

_He felt Will’s eyes fixated on him, but he couldn’t look at him. He didn’t say a word._

_“Yeah, I thought so.”_

_Chilton stepped away and disappeared from Hannibal’s view. After a couple of minutes they seemed to finish, and everyone started walking out, being the last ones the nurse that left his lunch on the tray, the guard that took the handcuffs off from him and Chilton, who closed the door dedicating him a last smile._

_“That fucking guy!” Will said once the door closed. “What is wrong with them, they don’t even let you maintain your dignity? You’re already imprisoned!”_

_Hannibal stopped rubbing his wrists and looked at him. He could feel his rage inside Will, along with his humiliation, and his helplessness… Everything was flowing through him, and he could feel how mad Will was then. Then he noticed Hannibal’s gaze, and seemed to be a little conscious of what he was saying. Will opened his mouth to say something, but the words never came out._

_“Would you like something else, sir?” the voice of a waiter echoed for a moment, and then Will disappeared._

_Hannibal took his meal and returned to the table, where all his drawings had been messed with. He started eating in silence, while he wondered how something like Will’s empathy could exist. He was only beginning to comprehend how powerful and extraordinary it was… and how many things about Will and their connection were unknown to him yet._

****

He woke up in the middle of the night gasping, and fell from the bed. Winston and Turner looked at him from their beds, worried, while he sat on the floor with his back against the bed. Will closed his eyes, still out of breath, and he saw flashes from the nightmare behind his eyelids. He was standing before the totem pole made of bodies they had found the previous day, and then he saw himself killing that last victim, the one who was going to decorate the very top. In the dream, he felt how frightened the man was, and he felt too the pride the killer felt when he contemplated his final work, finished.

Will stood up laboriously and went to the bathroom. When he turned on the light, he immediately regretted it and turned it off; the light was too bright, too painful to look at. He touched the bathroom walls until he found the cabinet and the aspirins inside. He swallowed two, and then let himself slide to the bathroom floor. He leaned against the wall and felt an immediate relief when he touched the cold tiles with his face.

That was one of the worst migraines he remembered having, and it wasn’t just that; he was burning up and he kept sweating. He wondered if he hadn’t caught the flu, but he didn’t even have the strength to stand up and take the thermometer. He decided to stay there for a little while, just a bit…

“Will.”

Groaning, he opened his eyes at the sound of his name, and he saw Hannibal standing beneath the bathroom’s doorframe, but he didn’t step in. He blinked a few times, because the sunlight was entering through his bedroom window, and it had the same effect of the light, when he had walked in the bathroom… how long ago, exactly?

“I’m up…” he said.

Will leaned on the toilet to stand up, and he almost tripped, but he managed to stay on his feet. He saw Hannibal making a subtle move towards him, but stopping immediately. He wondered if his hallucination had meant to pick him up if he had fallen, and he couldn’t help to laugh out loud.

He walked to the sink and faced the mirror, where a man who looked like shit returned his gaze. He had dark circles behind his eyes, his hair was sticky and messed, and, in general, he looked like he had just returned from a war.

He took his shirt off and threw it on the bathroom floor, but when he had his fingers on the underpants’ waistband, he looked at the door and he saw Hannibal watching him.

“Are you going to stand there?”

His mouth was dry, and every word cost him a world to pronounce. Hannibal blinked then and swallowed. He grabbed the handle and closed the bathroom door without saying a thing.

The shower woke him up a bit, but when he got out he still felt a little feverish and really tired. He took another two pills (even though he didn’t know how much time had passed since the moment when he had woken up at night), got dressed in the first thing he could find and went to the living room, where Hannibal was sitting. Will frowned, because he _always_ was cooking when he entered the living room on the morning.

“You’re not making breakfast today?” Will asked, almost collapsing on his chair.

“You look unwell,” he said, ignoring his question.

Will began laughing but stopped right away; the sound echoed in his head and it hurt him even more.

“I’m sure I look worse than unwell.”

He placed his forearms on top of the table and then rested his forehead in them. Maybe not eating breakfast was a good option. If he didn’t eat, he wouldn’t have anything to throw up. But apparently Hannibal didn’t share that thought, because he heard him get up and start preparing something. When he began putting everything on the table, Will straightened and suddenly remembered something.

“Wait, what day is today?”

Hannibal was pouring something that looked like tea on a cup, and he answered without looking away from it.

“It’s Wednesday.”

“Oh fuck, no.”

That day was one of the most important ones at the university. So important, that Jack had insisted that the case they were working on could wait. It was Orientation Day in Quantico, and he was giving a lecture on profiling. Which he wouldn’t have minded at all, if it weren’t for the small detail that he was feeling worse than ever.

“Drink this,” Hannibal told him, moving the mug closer to him.

Will checked the hour and breathed a little; he had plenty of time, but he still had to leave shortly. He picked up the cup and sipped from it without looking at the content. And when he tasted the hot liquid, he moved backwards, disgusted.

“What the _hell_ is this?”

“Just drink it. It’ll help you.”

Will saw a green thing floating on the liquid, and it looked like some sort of plant or flower, but he didn’t know which one. He sighed, because he didn’t have time to argue with him, and Hannibal was staring at him, as if to make sure he would drink it. The second sip was as bad as the first one, but once he was at the fifth, it started to taste _less_ horribly. He finished it and left the mug on the table under Hannibal’s supervision.

He went to his bedroom and changed again, this time to more formal clothes, and after letting the dogs go out by themselves for five minutes, he called them, locked the door and went out.

When he was at the car’s door trying to open it, he sensed Hannibal standing behind him, and then he listened something that sounded like when someone inhaled deeply through the nose. Will turned around and Hannibal stepped away, with his hands behind his back. He looked at him like nothing had just happened.

“Did you just _smell_ me?”

“Yes,” he said, and fell silent.

Will shrugged a little, waiting for an answer.

“Why?”

“I was just… checking something.”

He was going to ask him a hundred questions, but he didn’t seem very willing to answer them, and Will remembered that he was going to be late if he didn’t hurry, so he just got in the car and decided to let it go.

“Are you going to be able to drive?” Hannibal asked inside, and Will nodded while he buckled up and put his glasses on.

The truth was that he felt a little better. Equally tired, and still feeling sick, but at least he didn’t feel like he was about to faint. He didn’t know if it was due to the horrible drink he had had, or just because the fever was lowering on its own.

Whatever it was, he started the car and drove to Quantico.

****

Everyone burst into a loud applause when the theory of the Orientation Day lecture ended. He had presented two examples, two cases he had worked on several years ago. One of them had been a typical one; a serial killer, all his victims were females of around sixty, same height, same build and blondes. It had been a man in his thirties who hated his authoritative mother. That, along with the man’s untreated mental problems, had resulted in eight victims before they could catch him.

The second one had been the exact opposite: a case that nobody had been able to solve, despite the many profiles that had been made of the killer. Will ended the class saying that, if any of them had any ideas about the profile of that murderer, the FBI would be more than happy to hear them. But now that that part of the class was over, his least favorite part began; the questions.

A young man that couldn’t be more than twenty years old was the first to raise his hand while Will sipped from a glass of water that he had on the rostrum from which he had talked until that moment. Will didn’t remember him from his classes, but there were a lot of people. Most of his students were there, but also many people that had gone only for that day’s lecture.

“Go ahead,” he said, looking at him.

“What is your method for profiling? I mean, do you just look at the papers they give you, or…?”

Will smiled, a little uncomfortable, and shrugged.

“Every profiler has their method. I… usually start the profiling by visiting the murder scene, and then…” he made a pause and walked from one side to the other in front of the first row of seats. “Then I try to recreate the killer’s steps.”

Another one asked him how many years it took to become a profiler, and two others asked him about the cases he had talked about. But then, a girl raised her hand.

“What happens if a murderer can’t be profiled? Like the case of The Chesapeake Ripper.”

Will immediately thought about Hannibal and he discreetly looked around him… And there he was. He hadn’t seen him since the car, but he was now behind him, and he smiled, proud of being the current topic of the class.

“That’s an excellent question. I would say that The Chesapeake Ripper is a rather unique case. So far, no other serial killer has proved to be so difficult to comprehend, especially once he’s been caught. That’s why that case still interests a lot of people from within the criminal community and outside of it.”

“But how do you catch a killer that can’t be profiled? I mean, Miriam Lass was just lucky, wasn’t she?” the girl asked without bothering to raise her hand again.

“Well… maybe you catch them by letting them kill you,” he answered, trying to make a joke, but everyone was suddenly very still.

“You’re scaring them, professor,” Hannibal told him. Will couldn’t see him, but he was sure he would be smiling.

“That… was just a lame joke, sorry. Miriam Lass _was_ lucky to realize who the Ripper was and alert the FBI right before he tried to kill her, yes,” he said, remembering the facts. The young FBI trainee had become a celebrity back then, but she had ended up retiring after everything that had happened. “And answering your question; if a murderer can’t be profiled, then what you have left is investigating, obviously. And probably waiting until they make a mistake.”

Will went to the rostrum to drink again so he didn’t have to look at the faces from the crowd.

“Do you think that The Chesapeake Ripper shares some similarities with The Minnesota Shrike?” another man asked when Will pointed at his raised hand.

“Okay, allow me,” Hannibal said, and stepped forward. Will stepped back and just fell silent. Somehow, in that moment he knew that he wasn’t the one speaking anymore, not really. “Do you mean apart from their culinary taste?”

That provoked a few laughs on the crowd, and Will couldn’t help but smiled too, despite the disturbing nature of the joke.

“No, apart from that I can’t say that there are any similarities between the two of them. The Minnesota Shrike has killed girls who looked like his daughter, for the sole reason that he didn’t want to let her go. The Chesapeake Ripper… Can anybody tell me his motive for killing?”

One girl raised her hand, and Hannibal pointed at her.

“Maybe because he wanted to eat them?”

“Well, that could be one of the reasons, but no, I believe eating parts of their victims was just the logic step for him after murdering them. Anybody?”

“Maybe he lived a traumatic experience,” said a guy from a seat in one of the higher rows.

“That would be such a cliché,” Hannibal said, and it sounded like a reprimand.

“Maybe he kills just because he’s insane,” a girl said, and Hannibal froze on the stage.

Will saw him tilting his head a little, as if he was considering something, and then he stepped forwards, regaining control over himself.

“I… don’t think it’s that easy. I don’t think you can just throw the word _insane_ as an excuse or an explanation for anybody. Not even serial killers,” he said, and he felt his heart beating a little faster. “And don’t worry about not knowing The Chesapeake Ripper’s motives. As of today, it’s still unknown. He killed in many ways, copying even other killer’s patterns.”

He readjusted his glasses and sipped again from his glass of water.

“Any more questions?”

“But isn’t Hannibal Lecter imprisoned in a hospital in Baltimore for insane criminals?” another person insisted.

Hannibal took the floor again, and Will tried to protest, but the truth was that he was interested in what he wanted to say.

“Yes he is, but only between us? I don’t think he’s crazy at all,” he said that in a low voice, and a few people laughed, believing it was a joke.

“And is it true that he’s still involved in psychiatric organizations, magazines, and all that?” another one asked.

“Well, yes. He’s certainly not joining PETA,” he joked, and again a lot of people laughed. “Before he was discovered and imprisoned, he was a distinguished psychiatrist, so it’s not very surprising that they still want to know his point of view. I would say that now, they are even _more_ interested.”

Will regained control again, and cleared his throat, but before he could ask if there were further questions, there were two raised hands.

“They say he is really smart. How come he was discovered if he’s so clever?” asked one woman without him giving her permission.

He sensed Hannibal approaching him, but this time he fought him. He turned and shot him a hard look.

“Well, I think you’d have to ask that to him. Okay, any more questions,” he started asking, and a few hands raised, “that are _not_ related with The Chesapeake Ripper?”

The hands lowered.

****

The class _finally_ ended after a few more questions, and then almost everyone waited in line to thank and congratulate him for the class. A young girl, that he remembered as the one who had made the first question about The Chesapeake Ripper, even told him how much she wanted to become a profiler for the FBI, _like him_. He had to fake a smile while the thought of someone having to live like him made him shiver.

Once he had attended everyone, he almost ran outside and towards the bathroom, where he splashed some water on his face. He looked at his reflection, and he saw a huge change from the man who he had seen that very same morning, but he still looked pale. He felt tired, though the fever had lowered almost completely, and the migraine was giving him a break.

He went outside the building, avoiding the huge groups of people that were congregating to assist other lectures. And just when he was about to reach his car, someone stood before him and made him stop.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Graham,” the redheaded woman in front of him said, taking a card from her pocket and offering it to him.

He took it and before he could read it, she continued talking.

“My name is Freddie Lounds, I work for TattleCrime, I guess you know about it?”

“ _You_ are Freddie Lounds?” he hissed, remembering what Abigail had told him.

“The same,” she said, and then she opened her notebook and took a pen. “I was listening at your… talk. It was very educational.”

“Thank you,” he said, emotionless.

“You said that…” she read something from her notebook, and then looked at him with cold eyes. “You said that serial killers aren’t insane. You want to comment on that?”

“No, I didn’t say that, exactly, I said…”

“I’m only reading what you said,” she cleared her throat and read out loud. “ _’You can just throw the word insane as an excuse or explanation for anybody. Not even serial killers._ ’ So you think serial killers aren’t crazy?”

“What? Look… No comments, okay?”

He circled her and started walking towards his car.

“You also said that you thought The Chesapeake Ripper wasn’t crazy. Do you think his many victims would think like you?”

“Do me a favor, Miss Lounds, and stop trying whatever it is you’re trying. I’m not saying anything.”

“Is it true that you’re unofficially working for the FBI again?” she asked, and Will stopped walking. That wasn’t supposed to be public.

He turned to look at her, and she had a triumphant smile on her lips.

“Is it true…” she continued firing questions when he didn’t answer them, “that you killed Garret Jacob Hobbs on your first case back?”

That was a detail the FBI hadn’t released. He thought that maybe Abigail had told her about that, but it was a bad thing that precisely that woman knew about it.

Will took a step towards her, but then stopped.

“No… comments.”

He turned and hurried towards his car, and Freddie Lounds didn’t follow him. When he got in, he held the wheel with his hands, trying to stop them from shaking, until his knuckles turned white. When he calmed a little, he sighed and cursed in a whisper. Thanks to that woman, his headache was back.

A knock on his window made him jump, but he relaxed a little when he saw that it was Jack. Will got out of the car to talk to him.

“Will. They tell me the lecture has gone great,” he said, looking at him in the eyes.

“Yeah, I guess. Anything to convince people to enroll in the FBI,” Will joked, and Jack nodded absently.

“By the way,” he started saying, and Will couldn’t help but smile a little. Good Jack, who _always_ wanted something. “You went to talk to Abigail Hobbs the other day, didn’t you? With the day we had yesterday, I couldn’t ask you.”

“Yes, I went to see her,” he said, pocketing his hands on his coat.

“And?”

Jack looked right at him and Will suddenly wondered if that wasn’t an interrogation. He had had time to think about what he was going to tell Jack, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“I don’t think she had anything to do with her father’s murders.”

His instincts told him that there was a missing piece in the puzzle that case was, but he had decided he owed Abigail the benefit of the doubt, at least. And if he told Jack anything that remotely implied that she could’ve had any relation with the murders… He would stop at nothing until he would find out.

“Are you sure?” he asked him, frowning.

“As sure as I can be. But I’ll probably visit her again. If I ever suspect anything… I’ll tell you.”

After that, Jack nodded and said goodbye to him. When he turned around, he saw that Hannibal was standing by the car, and he smiled at Will.

****

The next day, he focused completely on the totem pole case. He went to the FBI offices and went over everything they knew about the bodies with Beverly, Price and Zeller. Sometimes Will found the answers in the most obvious places, and that was one of those cases. He remembered that the investigators had found out that the victims had been murdered through a long period of time, so he told them to check who had been the first victim and to compare it with the last one.

The following day, Will and Jack were on his way to Larry Wells’ home, a man on his seventies that was the obvious suspect once they had made the connection, and who seemed to be waiting for them. He proudly admitted the crimes, saying that it was ‘ _his legacy_ ’. Will answered him that, in reality, he had murdered his true legacy, since the first victim had been the husband of a woman whom he had had an affair… and the last one, had been his own son, born after the infidelity. He had killed him to spite the woman, without knowing that he was his own offspring.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked him once they had taken Wells in custody.

He leaned on Jack’s car and nodded, although not very convincingly.

“Don’t get too close to them, Will. I need your gift, but not if it destroys you.”

Will smiled a little, because he knew what he really meant. He needed his gift, so if it destroyed him, he _wouldn’t_ _have_ Will’s gift.

He tried to assure him that he was okay, and then he was quiet the entire way back to Quantico, where he had left his car. He couldn’t let Jack know how bad the cases were affecting him, because then he would retire him. He knew that something was happening to him, but if he was losing his mind, the least he could do was catch as many criminals as he could before he was completely lost.

****

Will arrived to his house when it was almost nightfall. He let the dogs get out on his own because he didn’t have the strength to walk them. While they were outside, he changed into more comfortable clothes, turned the CD player on and lit the fireplace. When he whistled, the dogs came back one by one and he locked the door.

He sat by the fireplace and tried to warm up while the music soothed him. He was feeling a bit sick again, and he could feel his skin getting hotter by the minute, and not because of the fire.

In that moment, he sensed Hannibal somewhere in the room, and Will smiled a bit without opening his eyes. He hadn’t seen him once that day, but maybe it had been because he hadn’t had a minute to rest.

“Hey,” Will greeted him.

“Hey,” the other imitated him.

Will opened his eyes and saw Hannibal approaching him.

“Hard day?” he asked, in an understanding voice.

“Hard week…” Will said in a hoarse voice.

“I know what you need.”

Hannibal went to the kitchen, where he searched for something in the cupboards, and he came back with a couple of glasses and the bottle of whisky. He served a finger in each one and held one glass for him.

“God, yes,” he answered, taking it.

Hannibal sat on the couch across from him, and they both sipped at the whisky at the same time. Will didn’t know if alcohol was the best thing for the fever, but he didn’t care. He needed something that would help him sleep that night, and that seemed like the best option.

In that moment, he felt something wet on his hand. He opened his eyes to find Riley looking at him, and the dog whined a little, demanding to be petted. He hadn’t realized that he had closed his eyes, and he wondered if it had been a few seconds or minutes.

“Are you hungry?” Hannibal asked then.

“Yes, actually,” he replied a little confused, because his stomach was completely empty.

Hannibal nodded and got on his feet, picking up his empty glass and going to the kitchen. Will saw his own glass on the wooden table, and he frowned. He thought he had had the glass on his hands a few seconds ago, but he wasn’t sure anymore.

He sat up to take the glass. As he did this, he felt as if his head was moving slower than the rest of his body, and it was a _really_ weird feeling. He sipped from the glass and looked at Hannibal, who was moving with expertise, taking things out of the fringe and from the cabinets. He heard the distinctive sound of a knife chopping vegetables, and later, Hannibal tossing them into a pot.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Never ask. It spoils the surprise.”

Will smiled and sipped from his whisky, but when he looked at him again, he found himself hypnotized. Hannibal was cutting something on the counter, and the grey uniform stretched and shrank at his movements; the muscles on his back moved like waves breaking against a shore, again and again, tireless, an eternal cycle.

Unconsciously, he left the glass on the table, stood up and started moving towards him even though he was a little unsteady. Suddenly he couldn’t hear the noise of whatever it was that he was cooking, or the dogs walking around the house, or the background sound of the song that was playing; Will’s only focus was _him_.

When he reached him, he stopped behind him. He couldn’t look away from his back, as if he was a fly caught in a spider’s web, unable to move, unable to go away. After a couple of seconds, he raised his hand. Very slowly, he moved it closer to Hannibal’s back, and while he did that, he wondered what it would feel like, or _if_ it would feel like anything. But he didn’t wonder for a long time, because before he could realize what he was doing, his fingers touched him, and his breath got caught on his throat, because he could definitely _feel_ him. How could something created by his mind be so real, he would never know. But he knew one thing: that he was feeling him. He stretched his fingers slowly away from one another, and felt the fabric of the grey uniform under his fingertips.

He suddenly felt like crying, because that was not a feeling he should be having, and a hallucination shouldn’t feel more real than any other person he had touched in his entire life…

_He was still. More still than he had ever been in his life. He had in his hands a knife and a piece of raw chicken that he had intended to add to the pot. But he couldn’t move a muscle, because behind him, Will Graham was_ touching _him, right in the space between his shoulder blades. At first, he stood still because he really hadn’t expected that at all when he had heard Will getting up from his seat. But then, he felt him. He really_ felt _him, and he suddenly couldn’t breathe. He felt shivers running through his skin from the place where Will’s fingers were up to his own fingertips._

_He had been very careful not to touch him for many reasons, but in that moment he wondered how could they have spent all that time apart. How had they been able_ not _to touch._

_Very slowly, he turned his head, trying to look behind him without moving his back. And when he managed to see Will, he stood still, afraid even to breathe. He was standing behind him, with his right hand on his back and his eyes fixed on it, barely breathing. Hannibal took a moment to capture the febrile and yet amazed look on his eyes; the gap between his lips, that were parted; the way he shook a little when he exhaled through the mouth…_

_And then, Will looked up._

_He removed his hand from Hannibal’s back like it burnt, and he took a step backwards. Hannibal left the knife on the counter and slowly turned around to face him. They looked at each other for what felt like entire minutes, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds._

_“You feel so real…” Will whispered, astonished, and he blinked to stop a tear from falling from his eyes._

_Hannibal clenched his jaw and swallowed with difficulty._

_“You don’t.”_

_Because_ how _could he be real?_

_He focused on his room back in Baltimore, and Will’s kitchen disappeared around him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs in this chapter (this one is pretty obvious, but still!):
> 
> · '[Hurt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vt1Pwfnh5pc)' by Johnny Cash


	5. Five

The following days, Will would remember only a few fragments of that weekend.

After Hannibal disappeared on that Friday night, he had to deal with the half cooked pot that turned out to be chicken soup, and he finished it as he could. When he went to bed, the fever induced him into a sleepless night. He would remember waking up and seeing every possible hour on the alarm clock of his nightstand, while being unable to find a comfortable position.

But on Saturday, he got worse, and he only remembered two things; the hallucinations, and waking up at some point around noon, eating something and going back to bed. Throughout that day, he saw Garret Jacob Hobbs standing in a corner of his room, looking at him and whispering something. He saw Hannibal and talked to him, but suddenly it wasn’t Hannibal anymore: it was a tall black figure with antlers. He saw too a big black stag standing outside of the bedroom, as if he was waiting for something…

When he woke up, he looked around him confused and saw Harley and Buster playing with a chewing bone, each of them pulling one side of it. Apart from that, everything was silent. He checked his phone and he was surprised to see that it was Sunday afternoon.

He was going to get up from the bed when he noticed a few other things; the bed sheets were clean, which was really strange considering the condition he had been in. He also saw that there was a pitcher full of water and a glass on his nightstand, along with a bottle of aspirins. He decided that he didn’t feel like mulling over it at that precise moment, so he just thanked his past self, took two pills and drank two entire glasses of water as if he had just been rescued from the dessert. Then, he tried to stand up, and he realized it wasn’t that easy. He had just spent two days almost exclusively on the bed, so his muscles were really weak. He finally managed to get to the bathroom leaning on the walls, and once he was there, he took a warm shower that made him sigh of relief.

When he went into the living room with fresh clothes and no sweat on his skin, he felt like himself again, but still a little sick. He knew that the fever wasn’t completely gone, but at least he was able to _think_ again.

And with the thinking came the memories from last Friday. He had been already feverish by then, but he remembered everything; how hypnotized he had been with Hannibal, how he had gotten up and walked towards him… and the way he had felt when he had _touched_ him. He wasn’t an expert on hallucinations, but he didn’t think it was supposed to work that way. To _feel_ that way.

Will sighed when he recalled that memory, and decided that he had to eat something, since he wasn’t sure if he had consumed anything after the meal he remembered the day before. When he was thinking about what to cook, he opened the fridge and found that there were several plastic containers with food in them. He took them out and examined them: two of them were chicken soup, another one was a beef casserole, and in the last one were steamed vegetables.

He, once again, wondered if he had woken feverish and cooked all that. Maybe he had done it as a part of one of his hallucinations, but considering his state, it was a miracle that he hadn’t burnt down the house…

He ate a bowl of soup and some vegetables, and then he looked at the dogs, that were behaving normally. He tried to think when had been the last time he had let them out, but he couldn’t remember. So after the meal that served him as a breakfast, lunch and afternoon snack, he decided to push his luck and go for a walk with them, since he was feeling better and he couldn’t stand being in the house anymore. He put on a thick coat that he was saving for the winter and a black beanie, and whistled to call the dogs out. The day was cold, and when he inhaled through his nose, he felt awake for the first time in days. But he was really glad to be out and walking, so he didn’t care about the weather.

When he was walking through the woods, _he_ appeared. At first Will tried to pretend as if he hadn’t realized, but he had to look at him eventually. Hannibal was walking beside him, with his shoulders a little raised, as if the cold bothered him. For a second, he was tempted to offer him his coat, but quickly dismissed the idea.

“Hi,” he didn’t know what else to say, so in the end he chose a simple greeting.

“You look better than you did on Friday,” Hannibal told him after a short silence, and Will was about to ask him how could he know if he looked better, if he hadn’t looked at him. But he didn’t.

“Yeah, well… At least I’m out of the bed.”

They walked together for half an hour, and Will couldn’t help glancing at him from time to time, but Hannibal didn’t return his gaze once. He was serious, with his head down, and Will wondered once again if he was mad at him, this time because of the _touching_ incident, but he didn’t say anything.

When the path ended on a clearing, Will sat down under a tree while the dogs ran around, playing and barking, happy to be out. Hannibal sat next to him, but he still looked distracted.

“Did I miss something yesterday?” Hannibal asked all of the sudden.

Will turned to face him, but the other refused to look at him.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it _missing_ something, but… I had a strong fever and spent the day hallucinating (I mean with _other_ hallucinations), I couldn’t sleep without dreaming, I felt as if my head was about to explode… You know, the usual.”

Hannibal nodded, and then fell silent. Will frowned for a moment and tried to remember _something_ , anything. But everything else from the previous two days was clouded.

“So you… didn’t come yesterday at all?” he asked, and Hannibal looked at him for half a second, but quickly looked away.

“No. I was unavoidably retained.”

Will felt as if there was something that Hannibal wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t look very willing to talk about it… So Will had to let it go.

 _Hannibal was pacing on his room, one side to the other and back, again and again. He couldn’t sleep because he was feeling a little sick. But he knew that it wasn’t_ his _sickness; it was Will’s, reaching him through their connection despite the distance that separated them. He tried to close his mind again thinking about something else, and the headache weakened, but it wasn’t long until it came back. That night, they had touched. Or, more specifically, Will had touched him in a moment guided by the fever, Hannibal imagined. One way or another, they had touched, and now he felt their connection even stronger than before._

_Hannibal lay down on his bed and tried to sleep, but gave up again after fifteen minutes. He could feel Will’s fever in a corner of his mind, like a mosquito sting that he couldn’t scratch, and it was extremely irritating. Still, he couldn’t go to him. Not after what he had told him in his kitchen. He was curious about what would happen, how Will would behave towards him, and even how he himself would act. But he had a lot of questions and no answers, and that was something he wasn’t used to. So he waited, and he endured that night._

_On Saturday, he started feeling worse. He knew that he would have to see him sooner or after, and he also knew that he would be giving up eventually, so he decided to stop prolonging the inevitable and go to him._

_When Hannibal concentrated on Will, he had expected to find him on the couch, or maybe wandering around the house, petting the dogs with a drowsy look on him… But what he found was that Will was on his bed, neither asleep nor awake, grabbing the sheets with his hands and mumbling something incomprehensible. It was worse than he had thought._

_“Will?” he called him, just in case it was just one of his nightmares, but the other didn’t react._

_Hannibal went to him and sat on the edge of the bed. He extended his hand towards him but then paused. He was going to touch him again, not even twenty-four hours later, after what he had_ felt _. He closed his eyes for a second, and then approached Will. He touched his forehead and he felt two things: the first, Will was burning up. The second was his own pulse, accelerating when his fingers touched his skin. It was an impossible feeling, nothing he had ever felt before. He wondered if that was how normal people felt when they touched someone, but that seemed unlikely..._

_He opened Will’s eyes, more as a professional habit than anything else, and checked that he was responsive. Then he decided that he had to lower the fever, or Will could end up having brain damage. And he couldn’t know how that would affect their connection, but he wasn’t going to risk losing the only mean of escaping his prison room, even if it was only through his mind. So he got to work. Firstly, he searched the drawers for a couple of small towels and opened the water tap on the bathroom. When it was lukewarm, he soaked them, wringed them out a little and then returned to Will. He put one of them on his forehead after dabbing him a couple of times, and placed the other under his neck._

_After that, he went into the kitchen and took a pitcher. He filled it with water and returned to the bedroom with that and a glass. He sat at the edge of the bed again, and made Will straighten a little bit, holding his head up._

_“Will, drink this,” he told him, in case something filtered through the fever._

_He didn’t react at first, but when the warm liquid touched his lips, he drank in gulps. When he finished, he left the glass on the nightstand and placed Will back on the mattress._

_Hannibal waited for fifteen minutes, and then he took the towels from Will, he washed them and repeated the process, but this time, he left them on the nightstand. He took a clean plain white t-shirt from Will’s dresser, and he made Will sit up. When he was about to take his shirt off, he opened his eyes with a look of horror on his face and Hannibal froze, fearing that he was having a moment of lucidity. But Will’s gaze wasn’t directed at him._

_“He’s looking at me!” he exclaimed, and his hands grasped at Hannibal’s uniform. He could feel Will’s fingers on his side, so he stayed very still._

_“Who is?” Hannibal asked him, holding him so he wouldn’t fall back on the bed._

_“Him,” Will whispered, and he pointed at a corner of the room that was empty. He was having a hallucination._

_“Don’t worry, he’s already gone,” he told him in a calm voice, and Will nodded weakly, comforted by his words._

_Hannibal hoped that he didn’t remember any of that when the fever would lower, and then he took off his shirt. He threw it on the floor and quickly dressed him with the clean one. Giving him a sponge bath would be a good way of lowering his fever even faster, but that was something Hannibal was just not ready to do, not when he felt the way he did when he was in contact with him, whatever the reason was. He lay Will down again, covered him with the sheets and placed the fresh towels on his forehead and neck._

_A couple of hours later, he was preparing a bowl of chicken soup from the leftovers of the previous day when he heard a noise coming from the bedroom, and then Will came into the living room, leaning against the walls and almost tripping with the chair. Hannibal put the bowl on the table, along with a glass of water and two aspirins. He was moving carefully around Will, but it turned out he didn’t need to; the fever was still really high and he didn’t seem to notice his presence. While he was eating, he tried something, and this was to open the main door so the dogs could go out by themselves. Hannibal wasn’t exactly sure how everything worked yet, but he was slowly figuring things out. Like, for example, how he couldn’t go too far away from Will when he was ‘_ visiting _’ him; he had learned that in places like the supermarket. But he could interact with the things around him, and the only ones that noticed him apart from Will were the animals. It was true, after all, that animals were much smarter than most humans. So when he whistled like Will used to, the dogs came one by one and spread through the house. Only once they were all inside, he realized that he still didn’t know how many they were, and regretted the lost opportunity of counting them when they had gone inside._

_When Will returned to bed, Hannibal replaced the towels that were thrown on the floor, and when he was going to place them on his forehead, he started mumbling something and suddenly he sat up and looked at Hannibal._

_“What are you?” he asked him, with a scared look._

_Hannibal didn’t know what to answer, but Will soon seemed to forget about whatever it was he had seen, lay down again and started moving in a restless sleep._

_The rest of the day, he created a sort of routine that he repeated over and over; he changed the towels every half hour, gave him a pill every three or four hours, made him drink a lot of water, and changed his shirt when it was completely soaked._

_When it was nightfall, he fed Will soup again, but this time Will kept saying that ‘_ he had to kill him’ _. Hannibal guessed he was mumbling about one of his cases, but he didn’t let his mind slip towards Will’s to see the memory; Hannibal had enough with the pain and the fatigue he was feeling because of his fever. After getting him to eat something, he helped him stand up and told him to wait on the armchair where he himself had been sitting for the greater part of the day. Then, he took the sheets off and threw them on the laundry basket that was on the bathroom. He searched on the wardrobe and finally found the clean bed sheets, so he took one set and then put them on._

_When the bed was ready, he looked at Will, who was huddled up on the armchair, hugging his naked legs and shaking._

_“Can you see that?” he asked._

_Hannibal turned to look at the bedroom door, where his eyes were fixed. There wasn’t anything there._

_“See what?”_

_“The giant stag.”_

_He raised an eyebrow. It seemed like his hallucinations were getting more interesting by the minute._

_Hannibal circled the bed and was going to get him up when something occurred to him. He stepped back and focused on Will, like he had done on the lecture on orientation day at Quantico…_

_And then, he got up from the armchair. He looked around and saw Will in the middle of the room, shaking and hugging himself, but still unconscious about what was happening. He changed his shirt mechanically and then went to the bed and lay down, where he closed his eyes… and left Will’s body._

_He repeated the routine of changing the towels, getting him to drink at least half a glass of water and giving him a pill, and then he retired to his armchair._

_Hannibal stayed awake watching him until, at some point late at night, he went to feel Will’s forehead and found that his temperature was much lower. Then, he retired to his bedroom and fell asleep the second his head touched the pillow._

_When he woke up he could still feel Will’s headache, but it was a much fainter feeling than it had been the day before. He still went to him, and he found that Will was sleeping. This time, he seemed to be finally resting, in contrast to the day before, when he had been constantly moving and shaking. Hannibal decided to prepare a few simple meals so he would have something to eat once he woke up._

_While he was cooking, he thought about what he had done the night before, the moment when he had controlled Will. It had been totally different than the other times, because Will had been completely aware and he had_ let _him in, at some level. But because of the fever, Will hadn’t been conscious about Hannibal controlling him, not really._

_When he made sure that everything was on his place and Will was still sound asleep, he retired to his bedroom with his body aching from the fatigue, and a plan beginning to form in his mind._

****

Will was dressing to go to work when he heard the dogs getting nervous, and then they started barking. He wasn’t used to having visits, and much less on a Monday morning, so he quickly put his pants on and went into the living room as he heard the tires of a vehicle approaching the house. He shushed the dogs, and when he moved the curtain that covered the glassed door, he frowned. It was an UPS deliveryman, who was starting to unload several packages from the van.

“Will Graham?” the man asked him when Will opened the door before he had a chance to ring the bell, and he nodded. “You have to sign here.”

Will looked at the sheet of paper he had on his hands, and then he looked at the various packages he had behind him. They were _huge_.

“But… I didn’t order anything.”

“Are you Will Graham or not?” the man asked, losing his patience.

“Yes, I am, but-”

“Then please, sign. If you want to return the products, you can contact the website.”

He signed them and then the man proceeded to put box after box on the porch. When he finished, Will thanked him and the man left through the only road that led to his house.

Will then looked at the packages and raised an eyebrow. He did _not_ remember ordering anything, and much less five things from Amazon. He started getting the boxes inside the house, with the dogs sniffing them and waving their tails, curious about the content.

“Oh right, I had forgotten about that.”

He raised his gaze to look at Hannibal, who was on the kitchen making breakfast. He hadn’t noticed him there when he had gone to answer the door, but now he noticed that the whole house smelled like bacon, and Will’s stomach rumbled in response.

“Are you telling me you ordered all of this? When?” he asked him, pointing at the huge boxes.

Hannibal turned to look at him for a second, and shrugged.

“You were in the shower.”

Will snorted, frustrated.

“But… I mean… _How_?” he asked, referring to the ‘you-are-just-a-hallucination’ situation, but he raised his hands. “You know what? Never mind.”

He left the boxes unopened and went to his room to finish getting dressed. When he came back to the living room, the table was already set with a pitcher of orange juice that apparently he had prepared at some point, a couple of glasses, two mugs of coffee and everything else they would need. Will sat down at his usual spot and waited until Hannibal finished.

The previous day they had barely talked, and Hannibal had avoided his gaze. They didn’t talk about what had happened on Friday, and Will wasn’t going to bring out the subject, so they had sat down by the fire, him reading a book from his bookshelf and Hannibal reading one from his own collection. Will’s fever had been slowly lowering on Sunday, and that night he was able to sleep without a dream.

When he finished his breakfast, Will decided that he had time to open the boxes and see what they were before going to work. He started opening the smaller ones, and he discovered a waffle iron, a coffee grinder, a hand mixer and a slow cooker. All cooking stuff, which made sense considering Hannibal Lecter’s tastes.

“What’s wrong with my regular beater?” he asked Hannibal, who was observing the process of unpacking from his usual seat.

Hannibal just raised an eyebrow and sipped from his coffee, which he hadn’t finished yet.

“Okay… But what about this?” he asked taking the coffee grinder. “I already buy grinded coffee.”

“Not anymore.”

Will sighed and left everything aside to face the bigger box. He had to drag it next to the couch to be able to open it. It was a flat but really big package. He opened it with the help of a knife and then he raised his eyes to look at Hannibal the second he saw what was inside.

“Are you kidding me? How much did this cost?” Hannibal smiled a little after sipping from his coffee.

“You shouldn’t worry that much about money.”

In the box, there was a huge flat screen television, which didn’t seem exactly cheap.

“Sure, easy for you to say, you’re just in my mind, _I_ have to deal with the bills.”

“Will,” Hannibal said, and he had to look at him. “You have money, it’s ok for you to spend it on things from time to time.”

He recalled the conversation they had had about his childhood a week ago, and wondered if the television was for his benefit or for Hannibal’s, but he quickly dismissed the thought, because he was treating him like an actual person again. Anyway, he was actually very curious about it, and when he left for work, he had to repress a smile; he still wasn’t going to give him the joy of letting him know that he had liked the device.

****

When Will arrived at Quantico, he was walking towards Jack’s office when he ran into Alana as she was exiting one of the offices.

“Oh, hi!” she said, securing the papers she was carrying on her arms so they wouldn’t fall.

“Hey, Alana.”

“How are you doing?” she asked, smiling a little.

When he looked at her, he couldn’t help to think how beautiful she was that morning. Even though that she was now more close to being her psychiatrist than her colleague, there had been a time when he had seriously think about asking her out. They hadn’t been exactly friends, but they had met a few times on the university, where she sometimes taught a class, like him.

He remembered what had occurred to him a few days ago, and thought that maybe it was the perfect time to tell her.

“I’m doing okay, I guess,” he said, smiling, and then he lowered his gaze. He couldn’t do what he was about to while looking at her directly. “Hey, I was wondering… Would you like to come to my house for a dinner sometime?”

He looked at her again, and saw that she was surprised. Alana opened her mouth but nothing came out, and he then panicked. What if she said no because she was thinking about it as a date?

“I mean, Jack will be there, too,” he lied.

“Oh! Oh… Sure, I’d love to. When?” she answered.

“Er... This Friday sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect,” she said, and then she looked at her watch trying not to drop the papers. “Shit, it’s so late… I gotta run, I have to go to the Baltimore’s Hospital. We’ll talk, okay?”

He nodded, but she was already running down the corridor. He remembered that she worked at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, the same place where Hannibal… the _real_ Chesapeake Ripper was imprisoned. He often forgot that she had been closely involved with him before they had discovered him. She had been his student, and they had remained friends through the years. When Lecter had been discovered, it was only natural that the Hospital had asked for her help with his case.

When he got back to reality, he finally went to Jack’s office.

“What the _hell_ is this?”

He had only seated at the chair when he heard him yelling. Will looked at Jack, who was _definitely_ mad, and then he lowered his gaze to the newspaper that he had thrown on the desk. He swallowed a little before leaning forwards to see what Jack was talking about. And when he did, he felt a wave of anger rising up inside him.

The headline read: ‘ _Will Graham: Serial Killers Fanboy_ ’, with a candid photo of him leaving the university.

“What the…?” he asked, and he took the newspaper.

Freddie Lounds had dedicated the cover of Tattlecrime and an extensive article to him and the orientation day lecture, taking out of context a lot of his words and twisting others. She had written that ‘ _Graham seemed too cheerful talking about murderers and serial killers, almost with admiration […]. Especially The Chesapeake Ripper, the known cannibal who was convicted for more than 40 murders, of which he lightly affirmed that he “wasn’t crazy_ ”’. Then she proceeded to relate to the world how he had failed the test to become an official FBI agent because they had considered him unstable, and how he had ended up retiring from the field. ‘ _Now, the FBI seems to have reconsidered this and Graham has been seen working on several cases under the pretense of being “just a consultant”. Maybe the FBI thinks that in order to catch the United States’ most unstable minds, they needed his own. After all, it takes one to catch one…_ ’

Will left the newspaper back on the desk, and rubbed his temples while he let out a sigh, trying to relieve the stress he suddenly felt in all his muscles.

“So? Care to explain?” Jack asked him, still standing up behind the desk.

“I… had a encounter with her after the orientation day lecture. Apparently she attended it, and… She’s twisting my words, Jack. Taking things out of context.”

“That’s what Freddie Lounds does. But that’s not what worries me. How on _earth_ does she know about everything else? About Garret Jacob Hobbs? And some of the things she mentions, they’re not even on record.”

“I don’t know how she knows so much about me…” he said, and then he remembered something. “But the Garret Jacob Hobbs thing… She might’ve found out because of Abigail Hobbs.”

“Abigail?” Jack asked, confused.

“When I went to see her, she told me that Freddie Lounds had visited her. She offered to write a book with her story, and she even kindly informed Abigail that I was… insane,” he said, and Jack raised an eyebrow. “She probably got the information out of her.”

Jack closed his eyes, let out a long sigh, and then he finally sat on his chair.

“You should’ve mentioned that the reporter of Tattlecrime had visited our… victim,” he said, and Will guessed that he had meant to say _suspect_. “But I guess this woman has her ways of finding out about things, anyway.”

Will nodded absently, and then Jack leaned forwards.

“Hey,” he told him, and Will raised his gaze. “Don’t let Freddie Lounds’ words get to you. She’s just trying to sell papers.”

“Well… she’s going to, that’s for sure.”

Will stood up to leave the office when he remembered about the dinner.

“Oh, by the way, are you doing something Friday night?”

“I don’t think so… Why?” he asked, suspicious.

“Well, I thought about hosting a dinner. Alana will be there. And you. I mean, if you can. You can, right?”

“A dinner? I didn’t know you cooked…” he admitted, surprised.

“I’ll do my best,” Will shrugged, and Jack laughed a little.

“Of course, I’ll be there.”

Will let out a sight of relief when he was leaving the office. His forte wasn’t socializing, exactly, but if he wanted to keep working, a dinner could be a good opportunity to convince his emergency psychiatrist and his boss that he was okay.

****

_Hannibal heard the door open, and he raised his gaze. He thought it would be a nurse bringing him the lunch, but it was Alana Bloom who came in, neatly dressed with a suit and accompanied by a guard. He stood up and interlaced his hands behind his back, as always._

_“Good afternoon, Alana.”_

_She gestured the guard to let the things he was carrying on the table that was at one side of the door, and then he left. Alana had been working in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane since his own imprisonment. Given that Alana had been close to him, even though it had been being blind about his true nature, the Hospital had requested her help, and in the end she had stayed as a consultant and occasional psychiatrist to some of the patients._

_“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I got the books you asked for. ‘_ A general theory of love’ _, ‘_ The connection between human minds’ _, ‘_ I am also a we’ _…” Alana raised an eyebrow, but Hannibal just smiled a little. “I didn’t though you were that interested in Pseudoscience… Anyway, here you have: the books and this week’s edition of Tattlecrime.”_

_She went to the tray and started depositing the books and the newspaper under his watchful eye. But before she pushed it to his side, she paused and looked at him, severe._

_“Dr. Chilton told me you are not behaving properly lately,” she told him, and Hannibal knew then why she was the one delivering what he had requested. Chilton probably had asked her to give him a warning. “You know these comforts will only remain if-“_

_“If I behave. I know,” he finished for her. “I believe Dr. Chilton may be exaggerating some things. It’s not like I bit anyone,” he tried to joke, but her face remained serious. “Come on, Alana, you used to laugh at my jokes.”_

_“Sure. Before I knew your_ jokes _were actually disguised truths.”_

_“Don’t all jokes hide a little truth in them?”_

_She didn’t answer. Instead, she finally pushed the tray to Hannibal’s side of the glass, and then she turned around and left without another word. Once he was alone, he approached the tray and took the books and the newspaper. He left the first ones on the table, but started reading the second one immediately. He smiled at the sight of Will on the cover, very serious and hiding the eyes behind his glasses. He knew that Freddie Lounds had cornered him the previous week, but he hadn’t known what the reporter would do with his own and Will’s words at the lecture in Quantico. After he read the title, he decided that subtlety wasn’t Lounds’ style, that was for sure._

_While he was reading the article, he felt something changing in the air and he looked at his side. Will was sitting on a desk, probably in the university, and now he was also in Hannibal’s room. Apparently Will had ‘_ called _’ him, but as usual, he had done it without realizing it. The young one looked around, noticing the change, and then his gaze fixed up on him… and on the newspaper._

_“Oh, great, you too.”_

_Hannibal focused on Will and his own room disappeared around him, but he still had the newspaper on his hands. He sat at the other side of Will’s desk and observed everything, since it was the first time he was there. It was a small room, poorly decorated except for a few books related with criminology. He guessed that Will didn’t spend much time there, but he was now doing something, probably grading papers from his students._

_“Even my hallucination reads that crap?” he asked, nodding towards the newspaper._

_“Your hallucination apparently does,” Hannibal said, amused. “Miss Lounds has been very rude.”_

_“That’s an understatement…” he answered, and he sounded tired._

_“The good news is that it’s a good picture,” he told him, looking at the cover._

_Will rolled his eyes at his joke, and then tried to focus on his papers. Hannibal spread his mind towards Will a little, just enough to check that his fever was now completely lowered. Hannibal knew that it would be back, though. Will presented every symptom of encephalitis, and he had confirmed it when he had smelled him; it had a particular sweetened scent. So all he had to do was wait… Wait and see what would happen._

****

The following day, he didn’t have to teach any class at Quantico, and Jack didn’t have any cases that required him, so he stayed at home. When Hannibal appeared to prepare breakfast, Will was already on the living room, losing a fight against the television. He had made a space for it on the living room furniture, and he had managed to get it up there, but the problem were the multiple cables that he was supposed to connect and the instructions manual, that wasn’t exactly helpful.

“Okay, I officially hate this device and I haven’t even turned it on,” he announced, standing up and realizing one of the cables was tangled up in his arm, so he grabbed it angrily and threw it on the floor.

“It is not that difficult, you just have to connect the right cables on the right places.”

“I hadn’t thought about that, thank you,” Will said sarcastically, looking at him irritated.

Hannibal was already moving around the kitchen, and he just smiled at him, so Will grunted and went to the bathroom, where he took only one pill.

Hannibal finished preparing breakfast while Will fed the dogs on the room that was exclusively theirs. Inside that room were all their bowls for food and water, a bunch of toys that always ended up being spread around the house, and some of their beds. It was impossible for all the dog beds to fit in the room, so that was why they were also distributed around the living room and Will’s bedroom.

“You’re not going to work today?” Hannibal asked him when Will had finished his breakfast and leaned back on the chair.

Will shook his head and then sipped the last remains of his cup of coffee.

“Jack doesn’t have any cases and there’s no class today.”

“We could go grocery shopping,” Hannibal suggested, and then hid his face behind his mug.

“ _I_ ,” he said, emphasizing the pronoun, “don’t need anything.”

“Sure you do,” he said, standing up and taking the mug and a few plates with him to the kitchen. “You don’t have coffee for the grinder, or flour, and you’re out of bacon. And let’s not forget that you’re hosting a dinner in a few days.”

Will grunted again and carried the rest of the things from the table to the kitchen, where he left them on the counter while Hannibal was loading the dishwasher.

“I don’t know… I was thinking about buying something for the dinner at a restaurant or something like that,” Will said, shrugging.

Hannibal paused with a plate on his hand and looked at him, suddenly serious. It was like Will had just insulted him.

“No, you’re not,” he finally said, and placed the plate on the dishwasher.

Will snorted a little. He was being bossed around by a hallucination.

“So what do you suggest, exactly? That I prepare a complex dinner? Maybe a whole pork with an apple on its mouth,” he joked.

“My preferences for the dinner would be slightly different than pork,” Hannibal said, curving his lips on a smile. “But that’s not actually a bad idea.”

So they went to do grocery shopping. Hannibal insisted on going to a place that, only the name, sounded _expensive_ , but he completely refused. Once they got to the supermarket, they did as they had done the previous times: Will took the necessary things... And Hannibal filled the cart with a lot of things that Will was sure he _didn’t_ need to survive.

“At least you didn’t take a whole pig,” he joked while they were loading the purchase on the car.

“The meat for a dinner has to be fresh, Will,” he explained with a patient voice. “Unless there is a clear opportunity to acquire the meat earlier, it is always better to wait. Besides, _never_ buy your meat at a supermarket, if you can avoid it,” he said, looking at the package of chicken breasts that Will was putting on a bag and raising his eyebrows.

“Okay…”he said, giving up.

****

That afternoon, he tried again to connect the television properly, but gave up again when he couldn’t figure out how to get the audio and video at the same time, so he threw the remote control at the couch when he was feeling like smashing it against the screen. Will sighed and let himself fall backwards on the rug where he had been sitting.

“May I?”

He opened his eyes and saw an upside down Hannibal looking at him. He had disappeared for a while after the supermarket visit, but he was back then, like most afternoons.

“Be my guest.”

Will sat up while the other circled him and approached the television, and he observed him. Hannibal knelt and started looking at the cables, changing some and adjusting others. Finally, he turned it on and took the remote control from the couch before sitting down.

Magically, the image appeared on the screen, _and_ with audio.

“Well, at least I know how to do this subconsciously… I guess?”

He got up from the couch and decided that it was cold enough to light the fireplace, so he went out to pick up a few logs. When he came back Hannibal had apparently decided for a travel program where a man was explaining which were the best places to visit in Italy. Will started placing the logs while listening and glancing at the television, and when the fire lit up the room, the man had apparently arrived in Florence.

“Have you been to Italy, Will?” Hannibal asked him then.

“No. I haven’t been out of America, actually,” he confessed. “I guess I haven’t travelled that much.”

“That’s a tragedy,” he told him, and Will looked at him. He wasn’t joking.

“Well, I could call a few things in my life a tragedy, but I don’t know if not travelling is one of them…”

“You have to do it at least once, Will. You don’t know how much your mind will expand at the very sight of a stone-paved Roman road, or the _Fountain of Neptune_ …”

Will looked at him, and he noticed that he had closed his eyes. He wondered what Hannibal would be thinking in that moment… and then he stopped wondering. Will was suddenly standing in the middle of a square. But it wasn’t any place… he _knew_ it was Florence, Italy. He turned around and he saw the many buildings that surrounded him, and the statues... There were a lot of them, and the beauty was overwhelming.

“It’s the _Piazza della Signoria_. One of my favorite places in whole world,” Hannibal explained, beside him.

“It’s so beautiful…” Will whispered.

“It certainly is.”

Hannibal took a step forward, admiring the Fountain, and Will was incapable of looking away from him. The adoration in which he was looking at the monument was mesmerizing, the way his lips were slightly parted and his eyes were watery…

Then Hannibal blinked a couple of times and Italy faded away around them. Will looked at the man on the television, who was already visiting another city, and swallowed, because he had felt _everything_. The gentle breeze on his face, the sun burning on his skin, the smell of food, the chatter of many people that he couldn’t see… It was like a dream, but at the same time something completely different, more real. He felt Hannibal’s eyes on him, but Will didn’t turn to look at him.

That night, he went to bed after having what Hannibal said that was a ‘simple’ dinner that consisted of balsamic chicken breasts with rice and mushrooms. He still didn’t quite understand how he was able to make all those dishes, hallucinating or not. But of all the problems he had about losing his mind, being able to cook those dishes wasn’t one of them.

When he fell asleep, he dreamt about Italy. He was walking down a street with beautiful buildings at both sides, and he stopped before a fountain that he had never seen before of a tall man dressed in a suit. But the man wasn’t a statue anymore, he was alive and he was looking at him…

The setting changed and he wasn’t on the street anymore, he was inside a room with beautiful curtains through which the sunset light was filtering. And the man was there... but he wasn’t any man; his every move was perfectly planned, elegant, like a dancer. Will was on a bed, and the man was staring at him when he started undressing, slowly taking the jacket off, then the vest and the tie, and leaving only the shirt. He did the same with the lower clothes, until he was left with only his underwear. Then he moved towards him, climbing over the bed and crawling until he was on top of him. Will’s hands moved as if they belonged to another person, and they started unbuttoning the man’s shirt without any doubts. While he did that, the other lowered to his neck and sniffed, his nose brushing against his skin. When he took his shirt off, the man sat astride him and took his face with his hands, delicately. And then, he felt the man’s lips on top of his, while his hands caressed his hair. When the contact was broken, Will looked at him and he realized that the man had been Hannibal Lecter all along. But he wasn’t surprised or shocked. Will just pushed him until he was on top of him, took his own shirt off and then descended until their bodies were entangled once again. They kissed, and touched while the world around them disappeared… Will looked up, and saw that everything was crumbling, falling apart. And Hannibal wasn’t with him anymore.

Will woke up gasping and holding onto the bed, since he had felt as if he was falling… But it had been just a dream. A dream that hadn’t been exactly a nightmare, even if it had ended that way. But… had he just had an erotic dream… about Hannibal Lecter? About his hallucination?

He sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his hair. For the first time since he remembered, he was sweating and he had to go change his t-shirt in order to continue sleeping… but the reason wasn’t a nightmare.

****

That morning when Hannibal appeared, Will was more tense than usual. When he asked him, he waved a hand and blamed it on his headache, which wasn’t strictly a lie. The truth was, he was concentrating on thinking about something, _anything_ that wasn’t the dream he had had.

Will had guessed that his hallucination would appear and joke about it, trying to tease him, but when Hannibal showed up he wasn’t behaving any differently. So he decided to try not to think about it, and maybe that way he wouldn’t know. It was a pretty weird thing to think, to try to hide something from a hallucination that basically came out of his mind, but it was the only thing that occurred to him.

“They are wonderful,” Hannibal said.

They had finished breakfast and he had sat on the couch to watch the TV while Will changed his clothes and fed the dogs before going out.

“Who?” Will asked from the bedroom, distracted.

“The Symphony Orchestra.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, going into the living room and glancing at the TV.

“They’re coming to USA all the way from Rome for the first time,” Hannibal continued saying.

Will thought about Rome, and Italy, and… the dream. He saw it in vivid flashes when he closed his eyes, and he had to stop and hold on to the kitchen counter, trying to repress it. He saw the kiss, the way Hannibal had touched him with his long fingers, his smile when Will had pushed him onto the bed… When he opened his eyes, he cursed his imagination, and took a deep breath.

“Will?”

Will felt his face turning red with embarrassment even before he raised his head to face Hannibal. He was still on the couch, but he had turned around and was looking at him with a weird expression. He was smiling a little, with a strange gleam on his eyes.

“What?” he asked a little louder than what he had meant to.

Hannibal paused for a moment, and then he turned to look at the screen again.

“Have you ever been to an orchestra concert?”

Will felt his heart racing on his chest, but he tried to calm.

“No, I haven’t,” he replied, trying not to let his voice betray him.

“You absolutely should. It’s like a religious experience.”

Will resumed what he was doing and they both pretended like nothing had happened. But he knew, deep down, that Hannibal had seen it.

****

When he arrived to Quantico, he decided to stop by Jack’s office before going to the university, to ask him if there were any cases in which he could help, even if it weren’t serial killers. But when he was approaching the room, he heard people yelling inside. He was about to turn around when he recognized one of the voices.

“I’m not stupid so don’t treat me like I am!”

“I am not saying that, but I think you are exaggerating everything. He’s an adult, he can make his own decisions.”

“Don’t pretend like _you_ believe your own words, Jack. You said he wouldn’t get too close! Can you swear to me that he’s not getting too close to the cases?”

Will froze in the middle of the hallway, incapable of decide whether to knock or to go away. But he didn’t have much time to think, because the door opened and he found himself then face to face with Alana.

“Will,” she greeted him, surprised. But she quickly seemed to collect herself, and she smiled politely. “We will… see each other this Friday, right?” she asked, even if they had arranged it a couple of days before.

“Uh… Yeah, sure,” he said, after blinking a couple of times.

“Okay. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

After that, she circled him and left in a hurry. Jack went to the door, putting on his coat.

“Good thing that you’re here, I was about to call you. We’ve got a new case,” he said, while he started to walk through the hallway. Will joined him.

He considered not asking anything, but then he gave up.

“What were you and Alana talking about?” he said when they were exiting the building.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Jack. I… heard you arguing.”

They got to Jack’s car, and they stood by it. Finally, Jack sighed.

“Dr. Bloom and I disagree on a few things. She came by to tell me Abigail Hobbs wants to go to her house, and I told her that I would allow it, but she disapproves.”

Will frowned, because he was sure that the part of the discussion he had heard wasn’t exactly about Abigail.

“Wait, why did Alana…?”

“I asked her to go see her,” Jack said, anticipating his question. “She agrees with you about Abigail to a certain degree, but she still thinks Abigail isn’t ready to be out, back in the real world.”

Will smiled, because he knew what Jack was saying.

“So that’s why you will allow her to go. Exactly for the reason why Alana disapproves.”

Jack didn’t reply, and instead he got in the car. Will sat in the passenger seat.

“The girl asked for you, Will. She wants you to go with her.”

Will understood then why the discussion had derived from talking about Abigail to talking about him.

He knew Jack was just trying to push Abigail, trying to get a reaction… but he still nodded. He couldn’t refuse if she had asked for his help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have like no idea about cooking, so I’m basically taking the recipes from our friend Google. If I make no sense about a meal, I’m sorry! You can just imagine a beautifully presented dish made by Hannibal :)
> 
> Also, songs!  
> These ones are not referenced on this chapter, but they're songs that I'm using a LOT for this fic, and the lyrics remind me of the story or simply they remind me of Will/Hannibal, so:
> 
> · '[Mess is mine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1C816p-KTNk)', Vance Joy (this in particular has become THE main song for this fic. So good<3)  
> · '[Fire meet gasoline](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNdeLSKSZ1M)', Sia  
> · '[Awake my soul](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KpcBjt8Wqg8)', Mumford & Sons (I already included this one on the fanmix I made for [this fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1541039), but I can't help it, it MUST be here as well!)  
> · 'Wilder Mind', Mumford & Sons (I couldn't find a good youtube video for this one, so listen to it on spotify or something!)
> 
> More next week! :)


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the delay, but I wasn't at home yesterday, so I couldn't post. I hope the wait is worth! :)

_He opened his eyes when the lights turned on, and the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane slowly started waking up. Every morning, he spent a few minutes on his bed, listening closely; the other inmates waking up, the carts with food and medicines going across the hallways, the guards that had the night shift leaving and the morning shift arriving… Outside of his room, another day began in the Hospital, probably exactly the same as the previous one, and the one before that… But Hannibal smiled, because his days now were not predictable anymore._

_He got out of bed, dressed with his uniform and put on his slippers. Then, he thought about Will and his room disappeared, being replaced by the other’s bedroom. Will was still asleep on the bed, and one of the dogs raised her head to look at the newcomer, but didn’t make a sound; they were already used to him. Will Graham moved, changing his posture and frowning while still asleep. Hannibal extended his mind towards him, and felt Will’s discomfort and fear, as well as a dull headache. He must’ve been having a nightmare, probably about the case he was currently working on, so he retired his mind a little, and went to the living room. He started his morning routine by making an orange juice. When he was finished, he decided to make waffles, so he got all the necessary ingredients from the cupboards, and then he started mixing them in a big bowl. When he was plugging in the waffle iron, he heard Will waking up and going to the bathroom, and it wasn’t long until he came into the living room and sat on his usual chair. He still looked half asleep, his hair was a mess and he was wearing his usual pajama: a white t-shirt and his underwear. Will had been putting on a pajama pants the first days Hannibal had been around, but he had quickly given up. But Hannibal was focusing on the fact the he looked really pale. He cleaned his hands with the kitchen rag and approached him. It took Will by surprise when he stood beside him and then touched his forehead._

_“You just have a low fever, probably because of the headache. Nothing to worry about.”_

_He felt Will’s gaze fixed upon him while he returned to the kitchen and resumed preparing breakfast, but he didn’t turn. When he finished, he took everything to the table._

_“Waffles. Nice,” Will said, smiling weakly. There was no trace of sarcasm on his voice, and he felt content._

_“Maple syrup?” Hannibal asked._

_Will nodded, so he served him two waffles and then poured the syrup on top of them. When they started eating in silence, Hannibal couldn’t help to glance at him a couple of times. He wondered what would happen when he finally discovered that Hannibal wasn’t a hallucination caused by the stress or the encephalitis. Would his attitude towards him change? And would it be for the better or for the worse…? Whatever the case, he had to make the most of that situation and, in that moment, that included letting Will believe that he was only a hallucination._

****

When they arrived at Bloomington, Minnesota, they stayed in the car for a few seconds, still. Will was on the passenger seat, Alana had been driving, and Abigail was sitting on the backseat, looking through the window. Hannibal was there too, right next to her, but only he could see him, of course.

When Will had gone to pick up Abigail that morning, Alana was there, waiting for him. She told him that she was going with them, and neither Abigail nor him objected. They hadn’t talked very much during the flight or in the car, but now they were there… Where everything had started.

Will finally opened the door and went out, followed by the rest. But it was Abigail who passed in front of them and faced the house. On the door, on big black letters, someone had spray-painted ‘CANNIBALS’, and that was the first thing Abigail was seeing of what had been her home for eighteen years. She blinked a couple of times and seemed to recover a little, and then walked towards the door. Will opened with the key Jack had given to him the day before, and they went inside.

“This is… where my mum died, right?” Abigail asked when they were crossing the hallway.

Blood was a very hard thing to remove, so there was a distinctive stain where Mrs. Hobbs had died. He saw a flash with the moment when he had tried to stop the blood, but he blinked and it disappeared. He nodded at her question.

“I was expecting an outline in tape. Like in the movies.”

“They only do that if… you’re still alive when they take you to the hospital,” Will said, and immediately regretted it. Abigail didn’t need to know that.

She nodded and then continued towards the kitchen.

“If you want to go,” Alana started saying when they came in the kitchen, where everything had happened, “you just say so, and we’ll go, okay?”

But Abigail shook her head, with her eyes fixed on the bloodstains on the floor.

“I remember everything like it happened to another person. It doesn’t feel… real,” she said in a low voice, unconsciously touching the scarf that was covering the scar on her neck.

Once they moved to the living room, they found the boxes that the lab people had cataloged and put away, and they carried them there so Abigail could search and choose whatever she wanted to take with her.

Her future was still uncertain, but it was very unlikely that she would be staying on Minnesota any time soon, given how people had reacted to the news about her father, and how most of them saw her as an accomplice.

“You think you’re going to find any evidence?” she asked him when he was looking at a box full of photographs and random things.

“I had hoped so, but it doesn’t look like I’m going to find anything…”

“They’re not going to find those girls,” she said, lowering her gaze to the things she was examining. Alana looked at her, frowning. “When my dad took me to hunt, he always said that we had to honor every part of the animal. Otherwise, it was just murder…”

She made a pause, and Will could almost feel her realizing the meaning behind her own words. But she swallowed and pulled herself together, continuing to look through the things.

“Whatever bones are left from them, they’re probably holding pipes together.”

He had thought about that, and he had come to the same conclusion. They would probably never find the rest of the girls’ bodies.

“I’m going to go see if there are more boxes left,” Alana said, and went upstairs.

Hannibal sat next to Will, looking at everything with curiosity.

“I know what people say about me, you know?” Abigail said all of the sudden. She had an absent look; whatever she had been looking was forgotten in her hands.

“You shouldn’t listen to that. People say a lot of things.”

“They’re right, though.”

Will saw Hannibal raising his gaze to look at her, and he felt his throat tightening.

“What do you mean?”

“Before he cut my throat, my dad told me… He told me that he was killing them so he wouldn’t have to kill me.”

A couple of tears fell from her eyes, and Will felt her fear and sadness drowning him. He moved from his seat to the couch she was sitting on, and he covered her hands with his.

“Abigail, it’s not your fault. It wasn’t your fault that he killed them, you can’t-“

“But I knew it,” she whispered, and she looked at him in the eyes. “I… I did it. I helped him, because… I knew it was either them… or me.”

She was sobbing, and Will imagined the scene for a second: Abigail talking to the girls, being friendly while they were visiting colleges and luring them towards her father. But he also felt Abigail’s terror, and Will had to control himself not to shake.

“I never saw what he did afterwards, and I never did anything to them, but… I _knew_ it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Will hugged her, and he felt her shaking against him. But he felt something else; Hannibal’s hand on his shoulder, and an immediate wave of calm washed over him.

****

Will didn’t tell Alana anything about what Abigail had revealed to him, and neither did her. When she had calmed down, Will told him not to say anything about that to anybody for the moment. His duty would be to immediately report it; after all, if Abigail had been involved in some way with the murders, it had to be investigated. But he, once again, decided against it. The choice had been even easier than it had been when he had decided not to share his first suspicions with Jack. Abigail may have been her father’s bait for his murders, but she didn’t deserve to be punished for it. Besides, he was dead… he wasn’t going to hurt anybody else.

On the flight back to Baltimore, he thought again about how much he would love to be able to help Abigail. She still had to stay on the psychiatric facility, but once she recovered and Alana decided that she was okay, where would she go? Minnesota was a hostile place for her now, and even people from other states would recognize her as the Minnesota Shrike’s daughter, at least until they forgot about it.

When they arrived to the facility, he and Alana waited outside while a nurse walked Abigail to the building. She turned around before going inside and waved at them with a sad smile. Will raised his hand and left it there until he couldn’t see her anymore.

“She’s going to be okay, Will. With time.”

“Yeah…”

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Alana said, and Will blinked and moved his gaze from the facility’s doors. “Six pm?”

“Yes. Six pm,” he said, remembering the dinner and trying to smile a little.

She nodded and then went into her car and drove away.

When Will arrived in Wolf Trap, the sun was setting and he felt exhausted and a bit sick. He let the dogs out and lit up the fireplace, then he changed into a jumper and a pajama pants that he only wore before actually going to sleep. When he went into the living room again, he called the dogs in and locked the door. And when he turned around, he found himself in Hannibal’s room.

“Not now, please…” he said in a tired voice.

Hannibal was drawing in a sketchpad, but he raised his gaze to look at him. Will closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, and when he opened them he was back in his house, with Hannibal there.

He sighed and went to the kitchen, and since it was really late and he wasn’t in the mood for cooking anything, he just heated up some leftovers and sat in the table to eat. Hannibal didn’t join him that time; he stayed on the couch drawing, and Will just ate in silence.

When he finished, he remembered that he hadn’t done any developments on the previous day’s case, and he reluctantly searched through his old cases’ files until he found the one he was looking for; the case of The Columbia Punisher.

The day before they had been on a crime scene, and the minute he had walked in, he had had a feeling of familiarity. He knew who the killer was, and so he told Jack.

“It was an old case I worked, before… before I had to retire,” Will said, talking to Hannibal.

He had sat on the couch with the papers displayed on the wooden table, and a whisky helping him numb the headache. Hannibal was still focused on his drawing. A few locks of hair fell over his forehead, and the light from the fireplace casted shadows on his face. His lips were tighten, sign of his concentration.

Will continued talking, even if was to himself.

“He killed at least nine people, but he was so careful… We knew who he was, and still we could never prove it,” he said, sipping from his whisky and turning a page to read it. “It’s was so frustrating, you know? Knowing who he was, having him and not being able to do _anything_. We just had to let him go...”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, and felt his head a little dizzy from the alcohol. He remembered the moment like it had been yesterday, when they had gone to interview the suspect. Will had immediately known that it was him, that it was the killer… The man had looked at him with a smirk on his face, and Will had clenched his fists and restrained himself not to throw himself against him…

Will forced a laugh to erase the memory from his mind, but he still felt the anger flooding him. He looked at Hannibal and noticed that the charcoal had stopped moving over the paper. He was looking at Will.

“What are you drawing?” he asked to change the subject, dragging the vowels because of the whisky.

“Something,” he replied, enigmatic.

Will laughed a little and threw the papers on top of the table. He drained the rest of the glass of whisky and left it next to them. Maybe he had had enough emotions for a day…

_When he came back to his bedroom, he lay down on the bed, but it took him a couple of hours to fall asleep, since he could still sense Will’s emotions inside him, slowly fading._

_A few hours later he woke up startled, and when he looked around him, he realized that he wasn’t in his bed; he was lying next to Will. He was having a nightmare, and he was sweating and twitching. Hannibal turned to face him, and he stayed there for a few minutes, looking at him, his features lightened only by the moonlight. Will then grabbed his sheets with his fist and moved his face a little, still dreaming. Without realizing what he was doing, Hannibal extended his hand towards him and brushed a curl that had fallen over his forehead. He let his index touch his cheek for a second, and then moved away immediately when he_ felt _it; that feeling that overwhelmed him every time he touched Will._

_He rolled over on he bed and closed his eyes, returning to his room._

****

Will woke up tired, and it was how he knew that he had spent the whole night having nightmares, even though he only remembered the last thing he had seen before waking up. In his dream, Raymond Metzger, the suspect from the Punisher case, was smiling at him and walking away from him. Will tried to run towards him, but the other was farther away with each of his steps.

Will went into the bathroom, where he washed his face, took one aspirin and then took his shirt off and threw it on the laundry basket, which was starting to be really full. He took a clean t-shirt from the bedroom, and then went to the living room. He was putting it on when he passed by the wooden table with the papers from the case scattered over it… and something caught his eye. He took one of the reports from the case and saw an amazing drawing on the paper… A drawing of himself. He had never known how to draw, but it seemed like now he had acquired another talent from his hallucination. And a huge ego, apparently.

Hannibal appeared when he was making a couple of toasts. The other leaned on the counter, looking at him.

“The one time I am delayed and you’re cooking only for yourself?”

“I am not going to make breakfast for someone that doesn’t exist,” Will said, avoiding his gaze.

He tried to resume what he was doing, but Hannibal kept staring at him, and when he served a mug of coffee, he moved a step closer to him. Will looked at him. Hannibal held his gaze. Will sighed, giving up, and offered him the mug, which he took with a little smile on the lips.

“Whatever, but you’re making your own toasts,” he told him, serving another mug of coffee for himself and going to the table.

Hannibal joined him a couple of minutes later, and started buttering his toasts, calmly.

“Do you have class today?” he asked him before sipping from his coffee.

“No, most Fridays there aren’t any classes.”

“Then we’re going grocery shopping,” he said, and Will looked at him then. “For the dinner, obviously.”

“But we already bought a _lot_ of things the other day.”

“I already told you, the meat has to be acquired the previous or the same day, if possible. Besides, it was _your_ idea to serve pork,” he said, smiling.

Will left his toast on the plate.

“I was joking,” he explained.

“I know. But now you’re serving that.”

“I’m not… I don’t even know how to cook that.”

Hannibal swallowed the bite he had taken of his toast, and then smiled.

“I know you don’t. But I do.”

Will tried to deny the idea of going grocery shopping, _again_ , but Hannibal could be very persuasive, and before he knew it, they were both in the car, on their way to the nearest butcher’s shop. After buying a whole pig (he thought on the quantity of food that would be left over after the three people dinner), Hannibal guided him to a little delicatessen shop, where he made him buy four things that cost him the same as a purchase for a whole month.

“So, what is the deal with this, is this one of those aphrodisiac spices, or what?” he asked him half joking while getting in the car. Then he briefly remembered the dream he had had and regretted his words.

Hannibal sat on the passenger seat and Will could see him repressing a smile.

That day was entirely dedicated to preparing the dinner. Hannibal started working on the dish as soon as they got back to the house, and Will tried to understand what he was doing at the beginning, but when one hour later Hannibal announced that he had finished _one part_ of the sauce, he rolled his eyes and went to sit on the couch. At some point, Hannibal asked for his help, and he gave him the easy job of chopping some vegetables, which would be the side dishes. He was glad to be helpful and to be able to concentrate on something that wasn’t the case, which occupied his mind whenever he wasn’t doing anything. He was sure that the killer was going to get away with it, just like the first time. They didn’t have _any_ evidence, and Jack had given him until Monday to try to find something, since they were going to interview Metzger again. But he already had everything figured out… The only thing he needed was to be able to prove it.

When Hannibal joined him on the living room, he seemed tired but pleased.

“It’s in the oven. It will be ready in forty-five minutes,” he explained. Will nodded and then looked at the clock that was on the bookshelves and saw the hour.

“Oh shit, they’re coming in less than an hour.”

He jumped from the couch and sprinted towards the bedroom, but then stopped because he remembered something.

“Oh, and… I just… Thanks. For the dinner,” he said from the doorframe, and Hannibal turned to look at him. He just nodded with a little smile on the lips.

Will knew that he wasn’t real, but he still felt rude not thanking him for having spent so many hours on the kitchen. Even if, in reality, it was probably him making everything.

He took a shower and he even shaved, because his beard was starting to get out of control. After that, he dressed in his fancier clothes, and when he went to the living room it was almost the time.

Hannibal was on the kitchen, pouring a sauce over the pork, and then he looked at him and paused.

“What? Is there something wrong with the food?” Will asked, leaning to get a better look. It smelled incredible, and it looked even better.

“No, the food is fine,” he said, resuming what he had been doing. “You look nice. Is that all for Alana’s benefit?”

Will looked at him, and saw that he was smiling. He was probably teasing him.

“No…”

“So you don’t like her? She’s certainly attractive.”

Will opened the fridge to look inside, and then realized that he didn’t have anything to take from the fridge, so he closed it.

“I… used to. I did, a long time ago. Not anymore,” he said, and it was true. Whatever feelings he could’ve developed for her, had fallen behind.

“Shame. You know, she has the most curious birthmark on her thigh.”

Will widened his eyes, and he opened his mouth to say something, but in that moment the dogs started barking, announcing that someone was approaching the house.

He felt himself turning red while he was going to the door. The first to arrive was Jack, much to his relief, and he took a deep breath before opening. The dogs went out to greet him and he petted some of them.

“Guys, come on, don’t crowd him!” he told them, and most of them returned to the house.

“Hi. I brought this,” Jack told him, giving him a bottle of wine.

“Black Box Merlot, that’s a really good one,” Hannibal said from behind him.

“Thanks, Jack, you didn’t have to,” Will said, ignoring the other.

They both went in and Will went to the kitchen to open the wine. The dogs started barking again before he was finished.

“I’ll get the door,” Jack said, who was inspecting everything on the living room.

“Hey, handsome,” Alana said, petting one of the dogs when she came in. “Oh my god, you have so many dogs, I love them!”

“They love having someone else on the house besides me,” Will said, serving three glasses of wine.

Hannibal cleared his throat and Will briefly looked at him. He had raised an eyebrow at his comment, but Will shook his head a little.

Alana had brought a pie that he stored in the fridge, and then he started setting the table, refusing their help when they offered it.

“So, Will, what have you prepared?” Jack asked when he finally asked them to sit at the table.

“It’s, ehm…” he looked at the cooked medallions of pork, and cleared his throat. How could he explain something he hadn’t made?

“Rosemary-seared pork...” Hannibal started saying beside him. Will was a little startled, but quickly composed himself.

“It’s rosemary-seared pork,” he said.

“With truffle porcini sauce,” he finished, and Will repeated his words. “Now, may I?”

Hannibal asked that pointing at the tray, and Will knew what he meant. He shook his head almost imperceptibly and quickly took it himself.

“I was merely trying to help…” he said in a low voice, raising his hands and leaving him to it.

Will took the tray to the table, and then he took the serving cutlery, but he realized that he didn’t know exactly how and _what_ to serve from the food. He didn’t even know if some things were edible or just a decoration. He discreetly looked at Hannibal, who was standing beside him, and then looked at the tray.

“ _Now_ you want my help?” Hannibal asked, amused, and Will cleared his throat.

“Is there any problem?” Jack asked, frowning.

“No! No problem at all.”

“Fine,” Hannibal said, and then pointed at the medallions. “Serve two pieces on each plate and pour a little sauce on top of them. And one Physalis per person,” he said, and Will started serving everything as he told him, except the last part, when he stared at the tray, unsure of what he was referring to. “The little yellow fruits,” he specified, and Will did so.

After he had served the plates, he refilled the glasses of wine and then Will finally sat down. It wasn’t his usual spot, because he was sitting at the end of the table, with Alana and Jack at his sides. Hannibal circled them and took the seat in front of him, interlacing his fingers over the table. He wasn’t eating or drinking anything, which was unusual, but that relieved him. He wondered if they would see him drink from two glasses of wine if Hannibal would start drinking.

“Wow Will, this is _really_ good,” Jack said when he tasted the dish.

“Yeah, it’s amazing. I didn’t know you knew how to cook,” Alana agreed.

“Well, I have an imaginary chef friend,” he joked, and they both chuckled.

They ate in silence for a moment, with only the background music Will had put on.

“The curious thing is, this reminds me a lot of…” Alana started saying after having another bite, and then fell silent.

“Of what?” Jack asked, but Will suddenly feared the ending of that phrase.

“It reminds me of… Hannibal Lecter’s meals,” she finished.

Will felt like the floor had disappeared beneath him for a second, and his heart skipped a beat. He raised his gaze and saw that Hannibal had a wolfish smile.

“Sorry, not the best comparison. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Alana said, and ate another bite so as to show that she had really liked it.

He thought about all the implications of what she had said. That it reminded Alana precisely of Hannibal’s meals, when she had known him… Even if he, somehow, knew how to cook that subconsciously, it was a freaky coincidence that she had said that. And then he thought about the _other_ implication. The fact that Hannibal had served his guests the meat of his victims. He then realized that Alana actually _knew_ how the human flesh tasted.

In that moment, he saw himself eating in another place, another time. But it wasn’t him; it was Hannibal, eating by himself in a wide and well-decorated room. He tasted the meat from his plate and smiled, satisfied. Will could taste it too, and it wasn’t like anything he had ever tried. It was very similar to pork, but slightly different. He came back to reality, and looked around him, but neither Jack nor Alana had noticed anything. And then he realized… It was _human_ meat. He drank from his wine in an attempt to wipe out the taste from his mouth.

“Well, at least this really _is_ pork,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, but he regretted saying it. Alana faked a smile and Jack just looked down at his plate, probably considering whether to keep eating or not. And Hannibal kept smiling, showing his teeth. At least _someone_ was having a good time. “Sorry, that wasn’t funny.”

They continued eating in silence, and then Will couldn’t stand it anymore. His curiosity won.

“Could I ask you something? About… _him_?” he asked Alana, and she nodded, understanding. She must have heard that question many times, especially at the beginning, when they had found out about him. “How… was he? Uhm… you know what I mean. Besides secretly being a cannibal serial killer.”

Alana smiled a little, and then she sipped from her wine. Jack seemed truly interested in the turn the conversation had taken.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. He was… Well, I guess you could say he was charming as hell,” she said, shaking her head a little. “He was elegant, and exotic, and seemed to have _everything_ under control. That sounds horrible now that we know what he was, but back then… He fascinated everyone,” she made a pause, and she seemed to get back to reality. “I guess that’s why nobody noticed anything until Miriam Lass discovered that little mistake he had made.”

“Not exactly a mistake, she was just lucky,” Hannibal complained, and Will coughed a little.

He knew what Alana meant, though. Even if his hallucination wasn’t real, Will often forgot who he was supposed to be.

“Thanks for telling me,” Will told her. “I guess you must hate talking about it.”

“Well, I did at first, but now it’s okay. He’s locked in a cell for good, so that makes it a little better.”

Will glanced at Hannibal again, and saw that he wasn’t smiling anymore. Will could imagine that Alana’s words should’ve hurt him, but again he dismissed that thought. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t real. The _real_ Hannibal Lecter was many miles away from there.

“So, I have seen that you have a TV,“ Jack told him then, and he thanked the change of subject. He had said in the lab once that he didn’t own a television, and they all had looked at him as if a couple of wings had grown out of his back.

The rest of the dinner went by without any more incidents, except for Will’s headache. He had had a pill when he had showered, but around halfway of the dinner, it started hurting again. He still remembered that the purpose for the dinner was to prove them that he was doing well, so he endured the pain as he could, with the wine’s help. Hannibal disappeared at some point, too, and he relaxed a little. It was enough having two real people on his house, to worry about an unreal third.

“I’ll see you on Monday, Will. And thanks again for the dinner, it was amazing,” Jack told him by the door, when they were leaving.

Will nodded and Jack started walking towards his car. Alana was saying goodbye to the dogs, and she finally went outside.

“I completely agree with him, for once,” she said, smiling. “Thanks a lot for the dinner, everything was delicious.”

She leaned forwards and suddenly hugged him. He reacted after a second and hugged her awkwardly, but he felt really uncomfortable when she finally broke the contact.

“Thank you for the pie. And for coming,” he said, smiling slightly.

When she finally left, he took a deep breath and went inside. Max and Zoe were both seated in front of the door, as if they were waiting for him to tell them something.

“What? It wasn’t _that_ much of a disaster,” he told the dogs, and petted them on the head when he walked by them.

He cleaned the living room and the kitchen and put everything on the dishwasher. When he finally finished, he went to the bathroom, where he took two pills and took off his clothes quickly, as if they were strangling him. He didn’t even have the strength to put on a t-shirt, so he just crawled under the sheets and sighed of relief when his head finally touched the pillow and he was covered up to his armpits. Right when he was falling asleep, he felt something around him changing. He opened his eyes a little, half asleep, and saw Hannibal’s bare back in front of him. Will grunted, because he was too tired to deal with a hallucination in that moment, so he just rolled over. He felt the mattress trembling a little under the weight of another body, but he was already falling asleep.

****

“So… what you said yesterday,” Will started saying at breakfast, trying to sound casual. “About you and Alana?”

“Oh. I thought you weren’t interested in her.”

“I’m not. I mean, not in that way, I just… I’m curious about what my subconscious thinks that happened between Alana Bloom and Hannibal Lecter,” he said, shrugging.

“Well, in that case. She was my sexual partner for a while. She’s a very intelligent woman, so it was the best way to keep her blind about my true self,” he explained, and Will raised an eyebrow.

After breakfast, Will just sat on the couch to watch television while his body fought against the fever. Hannibal disappeared and he didn’t even come back at lunchtime, so Will ate a piece of pork from the previous day’s leftovers. He tried doing a little housework and put a couple of loads in the washing machine. When he finished, he was really tired despite having spent nearly all day on the couch, and it was because he felt pretty sick; what had been a slight fever the previous day, had begun increasing in the morning and worsened on the afternoon.

He sat on the couch again and tried to watch a movie, even though he was falling asleep and he wasn’t paying attention. But at some point, something caught his attention; the characters of the film had travelled to Italy, and they were taking a walk through the streets. Will was wondering if Italy was going to appear every time he turned on the TV, when the setting changed and a sex scene followed. The characters were on a hotel room, and before he could change it, it reminded him of the dream he had had. In that moment he remembered clear images of some of the moments from the dream, and he suddenly felt aroused. He turned the television off and tried to think of something else, although his body seemed to have other plans. But it was wrong… It was a dream about a person whom he was hallucinating with. It wasn’t even real.

Will then thought that everything was too hot, between the fever and the unfortunate memory… So he stood up and went to the bathroom, where he took a pill and decided to take a cool shower.

_Hannibal turned the page from the book he was reading, and then he heard the sound of a shower, of water falling. He raised his gaze and frowned, because usually he could hear things from the Hospital if he focused, but the showers were too far for him to be able to hear them from his room. And it didn’t sound far, it sounded like someone was taking a shower on the room next to his… But there weren’t any rooms beside his in that part of the Hospital. He stood up from his bed, leaving the book on top of it, and approached the wall. He put his ear against the wall and the sound intensified, but when he moved back, everything around him changed and he found himself on Will’s bedroom._

_He saw that the bathroom door was opened, so he looked inside and confirmed that the sound of water came from there. Will was inside the shower, and he could see his silhouette through the opaque glass. He was about to turn around and go back to his room when he reached Will’s mind unintentionally, and he immediately felt aroused. It felt like a hit, sudden and shocking, but there it was, a heat invading his whole body. He deepened into his mind and found that he was fighting against it. The images from the dream Will had had about him were mixing with his efforts to think about something else, and with his fever, that made that task even harder since he couldn’t focus entirely on anything._

_He turned around and smiled. In that moment, he felt_ really _curious about what would happen if he decided to intervene…_

_Hannibal came into the bathroom and slowly opened the glassed door of the shower. Will was facing the wall, so he could only see his back, with the rain that fell from the showerhead hitting his shoulders and sending drops of water everywhere. He had his hands against the wall, as if he would fall if he didn’t lean, and he could sense Will trying to fight the urge to lower his hand to his cock to relieve the tension. Hannibal finally stepped in, closing the glass behind him, and immediately felt water on his skin. If he focused, he could feel that he was completely dry on his room in Baltimore, and at the same time he was there, with the drops of water falling down his face, his clothes, everywhere._

_In that moment, Will seemed to notice his presence and turned around. When he saw him, his face went from being concentrated and drowsy to being alert and confused. But Hannibal acted quickly._

_“What the-?” Will started saying._

_“Shhh, it’s okay.”_

_Hannibal approached him, putting a hand on Will’s shoulder and carefully pushing his back against the wall. He extended his mind towards him and felt the cold of the tiles against his own skin, and he also sensed that the other was still aroused, so he took a step closer and didn’t hesitate when he reached Will’s cock and grabbed with his free hand. Will opened his mouth, taken by surprise and feeling an immediate wave of pleasure that Hannibal felt in his own body._

_“What are…?” Will gasped._

_“It’s okay,” he repeated in a whisper._

_He pushed him against the wall again, and then began moving his other hand around his hard cock, while he felt himself getting hard. Will looked at him for a second and then closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, unsure of where to rest his hands. In a matter of seconds, Hannibal felt his hair and clothes completely soaked, but he did not care at all._

_Will was still breathing open-mouthed, and when Hannibal heard him moaning, he felt a fire igniting inside himself and Will at the same time. He moved his hand back and forth, slowly, and while he did that, he didn’t look away from his face once. Will bit his lower lip, probably to control himself from moaning again, and Hannibal was hypnotized by the redness of his lips, the way the drops of water fell from his curls, going across his face and getting lost in the impossible cliff that was his jaw. Hannibal had to control himself not to lean forward to lick some of the drops that were merging with his skin… But he was too focused on Will, too focused on his right hand, while he tightly grabbed Will’s shoulder with the other, as if he would fall if he didn’t have that grip._

_When he felt Will closer to coming, he closed his eyes and he let his mind completely expand towards him, with no control for the first time, and he accelerated the movements on his hand, faster and tighter… They exploded in an orgasm that made them tremble, draining them and making them moan with pleasure._

_Hannibal felt Will’s forehead resting against his shoulder and heard his heavy breathing, that matched his own. He caressed Will’s hair with the hand that he had used to push him against the wall, and slowly released the other. He felt Will’s fever, and his pleasure, and his fatigue, and his heart beating fast, and the way_ they _felt when they were touching... and then it was too much._

_Hannibal focused and went back to Baltimore. When he did, he could still feel his skin wet, but he was completely dry._

****

When Will came out of the bathroom, he tried not to think too much about what had just happened, but it was a bit difficult, since he still felt the orgasm pulsing through his whole body. He didn’t have a lot of sexual experience, but he had had _some_ sex, and that was without any doubt the wildest and strongest orgasm he had experienced. He felt kind of glad that losing his mind had something good, but it still was weird that it had been while hallucinating with another person, and in particular _that_ person; a man, and a convicted serial killer. He never considered the possibility of being attracted to a man, but if that was the case, did his brain had to choose Hannibal Lecter specifically to have erotic hallucinations and dreams?

When he changed into his pajama and went to the living room, he could still feel Hannibal’s fingers on his shoulder, deep in his skin. He turned off the television half an hour later, irritated because it was impossible for him to focus on anything, and went straight to bed, hoping that the next day the fever would lowered. But instead, it got worse.

That night, he had a few hallucinations. He saw the same big stag that he had seen before. It stood at the feet of his bed, looking at him with his big black eyes. He also talked to someone, but then he realized there was nobody in the room, and the only ones there apart from him were the dogs.

He had a moment of lucidity in the afternoon, and he stood up from the bed only to find that Hannibal was on the living room, waiting for him with a bowl of soup prepared on the table. He was so tired that it was difficult for him to keep his eyelids open.

“Sit down, Will. You have to eat something,” he heard Hannibal saying, but it sounded like he was really far.

When he opened his eyes again he was sitting down at the table, but he didn’t remember going there.

“I don’t feel like eating anything…” he whispered.

Hannibal sat down next to him, and he felt his hand on his shoulder, which reminded him of something… but he didn’t know of what, exactly. Everything was blurry and he couldn’t focus on his own thoughts…

He felt a spoon on his lips, and he opened them and swallowed the content, frowning. His stomach was upside down and he feared that he was going to be sick.

Will opened his eyes when he swallowed a second spoonful, and saw Hannibal at his left, concentrated on blowing on the soup.

“I think I want to go to sleep…”

“Of course. Just have a little more,” he said, and moved the spoon closer.

Will managed to eat a little more, but then he began shaking, so Hannibal helped him get up and go back to the bedroom.

Then, everything faded to black.

_Hannibal helped Will lay down, and then went to the bathroom, where he searched through the cabinet until he found what he was looking for. He filled a glass with water and went back to the bedroom._

_“Will. Listen to me,” he said trying to get his attention. He was in the same position he had left him, but opened his eyes a little. “You have to take this.”_

_Hannibal sat on the bed and helped him sit up. Will then obediently took the pill from his hand, but paused when he was going to put it in his mouth._

_“This isn’t an aspirin…” he whispered, looking at him with watery eyes caused by the fever._

_“I know. It’s something that will help you sleep,” he assured him, but Will seemed hesitant._

_Hannibal enclosed Will’s hand with his own, and then slowly moved it closer to his mouth._

_“It’s okay…” he assured him, once again._

_Will finally put the pill on his mouth, and Hannibal gave him the glass of water. When he drank and swallowed it, he left the glass on the nightstand and let Will carefully lie down back on the mattress._

_And then, he got down to work. Hannibal searched through Will’s papers on the living room, and found the ones he was looking for; the case he was currently working on. He took the one where the suspect’s information was detailed, and he put it aside, for later. Then, he went to the kitchen and searched for the knife he had bought in one of their visits to the supermarket. It wasn’t too big, so it could fit in the pockets of a coat, and it was really sharp. He left it on top of the paper, and then he went into the bedroom again. He checked that Will was already asleep, and then touched his forehead. The fever was still pretty high, but it was stable, so he probably wouldn’t suffer irreparable brain damage._

_Then, he concentrated and went into Will’s body, as he had done a week ago. Once he did that, he got up from the bed and saw the young one standing in the middle of the room, with his eyes closed. It looked like he was sleepwalking. He approached him and touched his arm, but the other didn’t react, so Hannibal smiled. It was perfect._

_He got dressed with some of Will’s clothes, picking the darkest and warmest ones. Then, he looked through his shoes, but it turned out he only owned three pairs, so he took the ones he had seen him wearing almost every day, and put them on. Then, he put on a coat, and started searching for raincoat, but Will didn’t have any, so he would have to be careful with the stains. It was strange, because most of Will’s clothes wouldn’t have fit his build, but when he put them on being in Will’s body, it was like they were made for him. He still didn’t entirely understand how that worked, but he dismissed the thought. Understand it wasn’t his priority, and much less that night._

_When he finished in the bedroom, he went out and the dogs started moving around the house, nervous. He clicked his tongue like he had seen Will do, and they went back to their respective beds. Then, he pocketed the knife, took the car keys and the paper with Raymond Metzger’s address. He thought about taking Will’s handgun too, just in case, but decided against it. Guns weren’t his weapon of choice, and he doubted this man could overpower his fighting skills._

_When he finally went out, the sun was starting to set. Perfect timing._

_He drove all the way to Columbia, Maryland, avoiding the main roads. He wasn’t sure of what people could see if they looked at him, but he had a slight idea; a man who looked asleep and ill, driving a car on his own. Hannibal looked from time to time thought the rear mirror, where he could see Will on the backseat, still profoundly asleep and only shaking a little sometimes._

_When he arrived at Columbia, he drove by the garage where the man apparently worked as a mechanic, profession that had surely helped him when he had beaten to death his victims. But the garage was naturally closed, so he continued towards the man’s house. When he arrived, he passed by the little apartment and checked that there was light inside. Once he was sure that there was someone in the building, he parked Will’s car on a near but darker street. The place where that man lived was perfect: a suburb where it seemed that not many people dared to go outside at night, he hadn’t seen any recording cameras, and he hadn’t encountered a single police car._

_He got out of the car and walked back towards the apartment with his head down and trying to avoid the very few streetlamps that were working. And finally, he was at the address. He pretended to wander around it, checking if there were any other exists apart from the main door. He found a deserted alley that led to the house’s back door._

_He waited on the alley with Will at his side, listening to the sound of a television inside the apartment. It took the man around an hour to finally go to sleep, and he waited another half hour just in case. And then, he acted. This would never be his ideal way of doing that, but it wasn’t like he had that many options._

_He had taken some of Will’s tools to fix boats from the cabin, so he took them out and chose one of them to pick the lock. And, just like that, he was inside the house. He closed the door carefully and thanked the carpeted floor that covered the whole living room where he had entered._

_He moved quickly, in case that the other had a sharp ear, and he went through the only hallway the apartment had, that led straight to the bedroom. He walked guided by the dim light that filtered through the windows, and that was more than enough for him. When he saw the man, snoring in the bed, he made sure he was the one he had seen on the report, and then he took the knife out. He didn’t want the man to die on his sleep, it was obscene and it would be a mess very hard to clean. So he approached him and covered his mouth with one hand, while he put the knife on his neck. Raymond Metzger opened his eyes in shock and tried to struggle for a second, until Hannibal moved the knife closer, making sure he could feel the blade._

_“Shhh…” he whispered._

_The other nodded a little to let him know that he had understood, and Hannibal removed the hand from his mouth, but not the one with the knife. He grabbed the man by the shirt and the other stood up clumsily. The man probably thought that he wanted something, that he was going to get out of that situation somehow… But his plans were slightly different. The second the man was standing on his feet, Hannibal moved the knife away, only to put his arm around his neck and, applying the right pressure, he broke it and the body fell lifeless. He carried him by the armpits towards the hallway and then into the bathroom, where he introduced the body on the bathtub… and then he couldn’t wait anymore._

_He buried the blade on the man’s abdomen, making a precise and long cut. Hannibal inhaled, and the smell of blood filled his nostrils._

_Finally, after all that time…_

****

When Will opened his eyes that morning, he knew that something was wrong. He rubbed his eyes and sat at the edge of his bed. When he looked around, everything seemed normal; the dogs were sleeping, and the house was in silence… But he still couldn’t shake the weird feeling.

Then, he remembered a couple of things: the first, that he had had a fever the day before. It seemed mostly gone, even though he felt incredibly tired. The second, that it was Monday. He looked at the hour on the alarm clock and cursed. It was _really_ late, and Jack was picking him up to go to Columbia to interview their suspect.

He took a shower and started getting dressed as quickly as he could, and when he was almost ready, the dogs started barking announcing Jack’s arrival.

“Morning,” Jack told him getting out of the car when Will opened the door. “You’re not ready yet?”

“Sorry, I fell asleep. Give me a minute,” he said, and rushed back in while the dogs wandered in the surroundings of the house.

He put on his shoes and started looking for his coat, but it wasn’t in the back of the armchair, where he usually left it, or in the wardrobe, or in the living room... He gave up and took another one, wondering where he had left it the last time he had wore it, but shook his head and went out; he didn’t have time for that. He quickly made a coffee and took it in a thermos bottle. After that, he called the dogs in and then got on Jack’s car.

On their way to Columbia, he wondered why Hannibal hadn’t appeared like most mornings, but he reminded himself that not having hallucinations was supposed to be a good thing. Especially when he was at his boss’ car.

When they arrived at Columbia, they spoke again to the local police about the newest murder; a man that had appeared with his head bashed in, just like the Punisher’s other victims. The reason for the nickname was because all victims had been drunk in the moment of their deaths, so the newspapers had given him that name, as if the murderer was punishing those people for being drunk. But Will thought that the only reason for that was because drunk people were easier to kill, nothing more.

When they went to the garage where Metzger worked, the boss told them that he hadn’t gone to work that morning. They went then to his apartment, but nobody answered when they knocked. After a couple more tries, Jack nodded and two policemen broke the door down.

But when they came in, they quickly realized that not only Metzger wasn’t there… The house was messy, the bed unmade, and there were clothes and things missing from the wardrobes and drawers…

Metzger had run away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No songs in this chapter, but don't worry because will be a lot of them in the next chapters :)


	7. Seven

When Will came back from Columbia, he took the dogs for a walk, but his mind was still miles away. Metzger had run away, even though it didn’t make much sense. They knew that it was him, but they didn’t really have anything to accuse him, so why running away? That only made him look suspicious. Will felt like there was an entire piece of the puzzle he wasn’t seeing, something that he was missing…

When he came back to the house, he was freezing, so he lit up the fireplace and ate a bowl of a soup he found on the fridge. After that, he went straight to bed, not without realizing that Hannibal hadn’t appeared in the entire day. That night, he had a weird nightmare, made up of incoherent images. In the dream, he was driving, and later he was walking down a street… After that, he was in a house and it was really dark and everything was blurry and hazy, but he saw himself grabbing someone… and then he felt the man’s neck breaking.

He woke up gasping and almost falling from the bed, looking around him as if he was in an unknown place, but slowly realizing he was in his bedroom. He had never had a nightmare like that… it was _so_ real, and at the same time it felt like the most unreal one he had ever had. It was a weird sensation, as if he was watching something from a distance and _right_ there, simultaneously.

He went to the bathroom, where took two pills for the headache, and then splashed some cool water on his face. He stayed there for a few minutes, grabbing the sink with both hands until the throbbing from his head receded enough for him to be able to move without feeling nausea.

When he went into the living room, he wasn’t very surprised to find Hannibal making breakfast. But when he stood there for a few seconds and the other didn’t even look at him, a feeling of rage started growing inside him. Will sat down and Hannibal took care of everything, as always. When the other sat in his usual chair and started eating, Will took his fork and stabbed the pancakes with too much force, scratching the plate. He saw Hannibal glancing at him, but he didn’t say anything. And neither did Will.

That morning, he went to the university to teach a class. Since Metzger was gone, they had put an APB on him, but there wasn’t much more he could do. So after taking quick lunch on a diner, he went back to his house. His rage came back the second he entered through the door and Hannibal appeared beside him, as if everything was okay. He clenched his jaw when the other sat on the couch and started watching TV without even saying anything. Will stormed off to his bedroom and stayed there for a few hours, trying to take a nap but giving up frustrated. When he went out again, Hannibal was reading a book, and just the sight made him angrier.

“Whatever it is you’re sulking about, you should let it out. It’s not healthy to repress things, Will,” Hannibal told him from his couch when he went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water, and Will slammed the fridge door.

“I’m not talking to you.”

“Is this because of the shower?” he asked, calmly.

Will snorted, leaving the glass on the counter and turning to look at him. Hannibal hadn’t even taken his eyes off the book.

“So _now_ you want to talk? Don’t you prefer to humiliate me and disappear right afterwards? That seems to be your thing,” he said, bitterly. Maybe his anger _was_ about the shower.

Hannibal finally raised his gaze from the book, and looked at him with an undisturbed expression.

“Humiliate you?” he asked.

Will felt his anger burning inside him, so he went towards the living room, but stayed behind the table.

“You are my subconscious, so _please_ tell me why my mind decided to make me hallucinate with you tormenting me, and then disappearing right afterwards, leaving me wondering what the fuck is wrong with me.”

“Why do you think that it was a humiliation, Will? Is it because we are both men?”

Will’s jaw dropped, and it took him a while to be able to talk again.

“ _What_?”

“You seem to be okay with the fact that I’m a serial killer. We are sharing meals, conversations and almost a house, and you didn’t seem to care about that. But now you have a problem. Is it because of who I am… or because I am a man?”

Will circled the table and went towards him. He stopped right before the couch where he was sitting and clenched his fists, looking at him from above. He wanted to punch him so much in that moment…

“I think I’m sensing a suppressed internalized homophobia,” Hannibal said, with a strange tone on his voice.

In that moment, his face changed; he half closed his eyes, looked down and pursed his lips together a little… And Will knew then that he was _actually_ offended.

“I…,” he began saying, but he couldn’t find the words. “I’m not fucking answering that.”

“Of course you aren’t. I may be the one who disappears, but not talking seems to be your thing,” Hannibal said, cutting, and looked back at his book.

He was about to go to lock himself on the bedroom again, but then decided to sit on the couch and open a book, just to not give him the satisfaction of knowing he had touched a key point. He was shaking from the rage, but he endured it, slowly calming down. He was still angry at Hannibal, but he was right about one thing: the shower hallucination and his disappearance afterwards had bothered him a lot more than any other thing he had done. Maybe the fact that his hallucination had disappeared was a reflection of his own shame. But he still had felt humiliated when he had been left alone, in a shower, right after he had hallucinated with a man who had touched him in a way that nobody had ever before.

Shortly after their discussion, Hannibal got up and went to one of the windows, where he stood for what it felt like more than an hour, while Will tried to concentrate on the book he had in his hands, without success.

When his skin was starting to itch because of the inactivity, he left the book on the table and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“The sky is so beautiful tonight,” Hannibal said then, in a low voice.

Will looked at him briefly, but didn’t answer. He took the remote control to turn the TV on, and left the first channel he found, not listening to the words.

“May we go outside to look at the stars?” he asked then, and Will rolled his eyes, because now his voice sounded innocent even, almost like he had been ashamed of asking.

“Go outside by yourself,” he said, and it sounded more tired than hostile.

“I can’t go by myself.”

He didn’t know if he meant that he _couldn’t_ go because he was, after all, bound to him, or because he didn’t want to go alone. Either way, he sighed and, after a moment of hesitation, he stood up. He thought that, at least, that way he could get some fresh air, and maybe the pressure he felt on his chest would ease. He took a blanket from the bedroom, and when he came back, he just went outside without looking at Hannibal.

The moment they went out, the dogs started barking with happiness, and scattered around but stayed close. Will took one of the chairs he had on the porch and took it outside to be able to see the sky without the roof obstructing the visibility. When he sat, Hannibal imitated him, sitting next to him on another chair.

Will covered himself with the blanket, and then looked up, and for a second he forgot about everything. It didn’t matter how many times he saw the sky full of stars, its immensity always took his breath away. They stayed like that for a few minutes, and then Will noticed that his anger had almost disappeared.

He let his gaze fall to the ground, and then he slowly raised it to look at Hannibal. Illuminated by the moonlight, his dark blonde hair looked darker, and his features, sharper. He was focused on the sky, and the look on his face reminded Will of when he had seen him looking the Fountain of Neptune. He was starting to catalogue some of his facial expressions, and that one told him that he was hypnotized by the beauty of the stars; the half-closed eyes, the slightly parted lips, the vague smile on his lips… In that moment, Hannibal turned to look at him, and Will quickly moved his gaze away, looking at the sky again and hoping the darkness would hid his expression.

When they had been a few minutes outside, he saw Hannibal crossing his arms on his chest, as if he was getting cold. Will tried to resist the urge, but after a few seconds, he gave up, sighing. He stretched the blanket towards him, offering him the other end. Hannibal stared at him for a couple of second, and then he accepted it, covering himself with it.

They stayed there watching the stars, until neither of them could bear the cold anymore.

****

That night, he had the same dream. He saw himself driving a car, and then walking down an alley… No, he wasn’t walking anymore; he was waiting there, waiting for something to happen. Then he entered a house, where he again grabbed someone and killed him breaking his neck. Everything was _so_ dark and blurry, like an old film that had deteriorated… but the dream didn’t end there. He dragged the lifeless body, and then he put him in a bathtub. He noticed the knife in his hands when he placed the point of the blade on the man’s abdomen… And then he made a cut.

Will woke up startled, but he didn’t fall from the bed because there were two hands grabbing his shoulders.

“Will, calm down, you’re dreaming.”

He tried to even his breath while he focused on the face before him. It was Hannibal, standing beside the bed and looking at him, so he nodded and the other slowly released him. Will pushed the sheets away from him, and sat at the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and running a hand through his damp hair. Only then, he noticed that Hannibal was barefoot. He raised his gaze to find that not only he was barefoot: he was wearing underwear. _Only_ underwear.

Will rubbed his eyes with his hands, partially because he didn’t want to think again about the conclusion he could draw from being hallucinating with a half naked man, but also because of the headache. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in Hannibal’s room, and he was getting dressed, zipping his grey uniform. Will stood up and then he was back in his bedroom again, so he went towards the bathroom before the setting could change again around him. He took his shirt off and threw it on the laundry basket, but when he was about to turn around, something caught his eye. He moved the dirty shirt and he found his coat there, the one he hadn’t found two days before. He frowned, because he didn’t remember getting it dirty or leaving it there. He sighed a little and decided that forgetting where he put his coat wasn’t, not by a long shot, the strangest thing that was happening in his life, so he let it go.

When he arrived at Quantico that morning, he went straight to the laboratory, as Jack had asked him in a text. He was already there, along with Beverly, Zeller and Price.

“Hey,” he said when he came in.

Jack was standing in the middle of the room, with his hands on his pockets.

“Oh hey! We were just about to brief Jack,” Price told him.

“Do you have anything new?” Will asked, hopeful.

“Unfortunately, the news is that we have no news,” Zeller said, pursing his lips together.

“The footprint you found on the scene…?” Jack asked.

“It belonged to a pretty generic Nike model,” Beverly told them. “Pretty much a shoe anybody could own, and we didn’t even found anything remotely similar among the shoes that Metzger left behind.”

Will nodded and sighed. He had hoped that they would find something to incriminate him with the things he had left on the house, even though it wouldn’t be of any use now that Metzger had gone away, but it seemed like they wouldn’t be that lucky.

“Okay guys, thank you. Tell me if you find anything else,” Jack told them, and they nodded.

He and Will went out of the laboratory, and right when he was going to say goodbye to him, Jack put his hand on his shoulder, to stop him.

“Will, do you have a minute?”

“I…” he looked at his watch, and saw that he was kind of late to his class, but he nodded anyway. “Sure.”

“I wanted to tell you something. See, in about a month my wife Bella and I will have been married for twenty five years.”

Will knew a little about Jack’s wife, even though he had never met her. He knew that she had lung cancer, recently diagnosed, so he felt a pang in his chest for Jack.

“I… wow. That’s a special anniversary, Jack. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. And yeah, it’s very special, so Bella and I want to throw a big party.”

Will smiled and nodded, but then he realized where Jack was getting.

“Bella and I would love it if you could come, Will,” Jack said, and he swallowed.

A party. With people. _Not_ his ideal scenario. He would have to talk, socialize, and pretend like he was having a good time… But he couldn’t say no.

“Uhm… Of course, Jack. I’ll be there.”

Jack smiled and shook his hand as a thank you gesture, and after he told him that he would send him an invitation, he let him go to his class.

****

_Hannibal stayed very still while the guards untied him from the stretcher, and they raised their guns when he stepped out of it, just in case. Then they went out of the room closing the doors behind them, and he approached the glass. One of the guards untied the straitjacket through the holes, stepping away the moment he was free, and Hannibal finally took it off. He folded it until it could fit on the tray, and he passed it to the guards. Then, he untied the mask on his face and placed it on the tray too once they had taken the straitjacket. When he was able to breathe again, he rubbed his cheeks to ease the pain that the mask always caused him, and then another nurse came in to leave his dinner on the tray. He thanked her but didn’t take the food, and they all left the room. When he was sure that nobody else was entering, he sat on his bed and focused his mind on Will. He appeared at his living room, as usual when it was almost dinnertime._

_The first thing he noticed, though, was the music; if he wasn’t wrong, Johnny Cash’s voice was filling the room._

_“You don’t have enough with the car that you must punish yourself with this on your house, too?” he asked Will, who was sitting at the couch with some case’s files spread over his lap and the small table._

_His presence took him a little by surprise, since he had been focused on the reading, but he recovered pretty quickly, looking at him while holding a pen with his mouth. He took it out before speaking._

_“You play the theremin and you call Johnny Cash a punishment? I mean, I respect that you don’t like country music, but… It’s Johnny Cash,” he said, frowning._

_Hannibal smiled, pleased to discover that Will remembered that detail, probably from when he had studied him long before they had met. He sat on his couch and leaned back, sighing. He had spent a couple of hours in Chilton’s office that afternoon, playing the delicate game of not telling him anything new, but not making him angry, either. It was a game that Hannibal liked to play, but sometimes the man wasn’t even entertaining, just annoying._

_“Why is it that you enjoy that music so much? Is it only because of the nostalgia, because of the memories from your childhood?” he asked him, closing his eyes a little and traveling to a place in his mind._

_He opened his eyes and they were in Hannibal’s old office, sitting on the leather couches and him wearing one of his finest suits. Everything was as he remembered, even though he knew the place would look nothing like that by now._

_Will looked around him, a little confused, but he remained seated. If he thought that everything they were sharing was just a hallucination, what difference did another one make? But Hannibal knew what that was: a piece of his mind palace, from the surface of it._

_“It’s… not just because of the memories,” Will said after a few seconds, and Hannibal knew that he must be tired, since he usually dragged the sibilant consonants when he was, probably a remnant from his southern accent. “It’s… you know, maybe the music is repetitive, and the voice might not be that beautiful… But when you listen to the songs,_ really _listen to them… it’s the feelings that awake in you, you know?”_

_Will rubbed his forehead and remained silent for a few seconds._

_“It’s not like classical music, with all that artifice and… coldness. It has_ feelings _, it’s alive.”_

_“Maybe you haven’t listened to the right classical music. There is no greater feeling than the one you get when a perfectly coordinated orchestra sings a heavenly song, or when a pianist elevates you with a solo…”_

_Hannibal closed his eyes, and a song slowly replaced Johnny Cash, surrounding them._

_“Have you ever listened to this? It’s Beethoven’s piano concerto No. 5. One of the most beautiful pieces ever composed,” he whispered, and felt his heart going faster when the music elevated._

_Will didn’t answer, but he knew he was there, because he could feel his mind. When Hannibal opened his eyes he was at the verge of tears, as always when he listened to such a beautiful piece. They were back in Will’s living room, with Johnny Cash again on the speakers, and his hideous grey uniform replacing his suit._

_But he looked at Will and saw him blinking to hide the tears, so he smiled._

_“Is that your empathy, Will, or did you really like it?”_

_“Well… That one’s not that horrible,” he said, and Hannibal remembered that it was the same he had told him when he had heard Johnny Cash’s ‘Hurt’ in his car._

_The song ended on the CD player, and another one started. It told the story of a man who had killed a woman and was going to be incarcerated, and Hannibal tilted his head._

_“Perhaps the reason you like those songs so much it’s because they talk about prison and murderers.”_

_Will seemed to consider it for a few seconds, and then he smiled a little, but there was no joy in his eyes._

_“Perhaps that’s the reason. Maybe it’s because I myself am prisoner, so to speak,” he said, and Hannibal knew he was referring to his mind, to his gift. Will thought that it was a burden, but the comment still offended him a bit._

_“Then you and Johnny Cash both have that in common, you speak of things you don’t understand.”_

_Will looked at him and he felt his shame at realizing that Hannibal_ really _knew what being imprisoned meant, quite literally. The annoyance he had felt quickly disappeared when he sensed Will’s reaction._

_“Sorry,” Will said, whispering._

_Hannibal touched his lip, distracted, listening to the next song, which he was singing with a woman. Their voices combined together were actually very pleasant._

_“Maybe your Johnny Cash is not that terrible, either,” he admitted, and smiled a little._

_Will returned his smile, but then twitched and touched his forehead again. Hannibal extended his mind towards him and felt his headache. He stood up and went to the kitchen._

_“Wine?” he asked, while taking a bottle from the fridge. It was a sacrilege to keep the wines in a regular fridge, and not in a pantry or a wine cooler, but it was better than drinking it warm._

_“Yes, please,” Will answered._

_When he served two glasses, he turned around with them on his hands, but had to pause for a moment. Will had leaned his head on the couch, closing his eyes for a second. In that moment, he looked so fragile, but Hannibal knew that, even in his current state, he was much stronger than he looked. When he took the glasses of wine to him, Will opened his eyes and took the one he was offering to him._

_“Is that another unsolved case?” he asked then, nodding towards the papers that he had been looking at when he had appeared._

_Will sipped from his wine, and then nodded slightly._

_“Yeah… This case reminded me of others that I never could close, mostly because we didn’t have enough evidence…” he said, and he sighed._

_Hannibal smelled the wine and then sipped from it. After that, he tilted a little his head, trying to read the reports, and he saw the name of the killer. He memorized it for later._

****

The third night that he dreamt about the same thing, he woke up screaming and fell from the bed. He turned the lamp on and looked at his hands, turning them to see both sides… but they were clean.

That time, he had seen the same things from the two previous nights… but he had also seen who the man who he had been killing on his dreams was; Raymond Metzger. He had seen his face, and he had killed him for the third time. But not only that: he had dragged him to a bathtub and he had cut his stomach open, and then, he had looked at his hands, soaked in blood.

Will stood up and went to the bathroom, where he checked his hands again, and then washed them twice even though there was nothing on them. He kept seeing all that blood, exactly like when he had killed Garret Jacob Hobbs and he had tried to cover the cut from Abigail’s neck.

Will wondered why was he dreaming about killing Metzger over and over again. He was frustrated because he had escaped a second time, but he didn’t want to kill him, he only wanted to imprison him… Didn’t he?

He splashed some water on his face and then took a pill. He looked at his mirrored image, taking deep breaths until he stopped shaking.

He took his shirt off and left it on the laundry basket, and when he went out of the bathroom and switched the light off, he found himself in Hannibal’s room. He looked around, and saw him in the bed, covered up to his waist and asleep. Will thought that, at least, he could only see his torso that time. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Please, be my room again?” he said, and then he opened his eyes.

Hannibal’s room had disappeared around him. Hannibal hadn’t; he was now on Will’s bed. He raised his head with a sleepy face, and looked at Will, as if he was trying to figure out what was happening.

“Bad dream?” he asked, with a hoarse voice.

“You could say that,” Will said, putting on a clean shirt and walking towards his bed. He stood beside the bed, looking at him. He was occupying half of his mattress. “Can I have my bed back, please? I _really_ need to get some sleep.”

Hannibal rested his head back on the pillow, and didn’t move an inch.

“Be my guest. This is also my bed.”

And, as if to reinforce his words, he saw himself standing on the prison room, at the same time that he was on his bedroom. Will let out a forced sighed, and then climbed in his bed again and got under the sheets. Hannibal had his back towards him, and he did the same so they were back to back, but he still felt almost immediately the heat from other body next to him.

He slowly fell asleep listening to Hannibal’s breathing.

****

That day, his migraines gave him a rest. He still felt as if he hadn’t slept at all, and as if he was catching a cold, but at least he could think a little. When he went into the living room, he found Hannibal cooking breakfast, as usual.

“No pills today?” Hannibal asked when he sat down at the table.

“It doesn’t hurt that much this morning…” he said, taking a croissant from the plate on the center of the table and looking at it confused when he realized that they were homemade. “When did you have time to make these?”

“I didn’t sleep much after your interruption last night,” Hannibal said.

“Oh, I’m _really_ sorry for the trouble I may have caused you,” he said with sarcasm.

Hannibal didn’t reply, because he was occupied cutting his croissant in half and then started buttering it on the inside. Will observed him while he did that, and then he imitated him. When he took the first bite, he closed his eyes and enjoyed it; the croissant was tender on the inside, but a little crusty on the outside, and the heat from it had immediately started melting the butter.

“Good, isn’t it?” Hannibal asked him, and Will opened his eyes and nodded. “You should try it with peach jam on top,” he said, and then moved an orange jar closer to him.

Will shook his head a little, but he took it anyway. Losing his head was something much more complex that he had ever imagined, but at least it had some perks…

****

When Will arrived at the university, he went first to his little office. The first class he had that day didn’t start until an hour later, so he started grading some papers he had asked the students to do about a hypothetical case. But he hadn’t even graded two, when he felt the slight change that announced that Hannibal was there. He raised his gaze and there he was, inspecting a painting that was the only decoration hanging from the walls.

“I don’t know what’s more awful, this… _painting_ , or the unfortunate wall color,” he said, touching the wall with a finger like he was checking if the color was just dirt.

Will lowered his gaze again at the papers, and tried to concentrate on the words.

“The painting was already here when they gave me the office. As well as the color on the walls.”

“You could decorate a little,” Hannibal suggested.

“It’s just an office, it’s not like I’m not living here,” he said, looking at him again.

“Surrounding ourselves with aesthetically pleasing things is only natural, Will,” Hannibal said, going to one of the chairs in front of the desk and sitting down.

Will chuckled a little.

“Sure, that’s why I’m hallucinating with you.”

“Are you implying that I’m beautiful, Will?” he asked, and Will looked at him again. He was _smiling_ , teasing him again.

“No, I didn’t-. I meant-“

In that moment, he heard a knock and looked to the door, where there was a girl.

“Professor Graham. I’m sorry, I can come back later if I’m interrupting any… phone call?” she said, but quickly saw that he was _not_ talking on the phone.

Will cleared his throat, embarrassed. Hannibal covered his mouth with his hand, and Will knew he was smiling behind it.

“No, it’s… did you need something?” he asked, a little brusque.

“Yeah, actually, I have a few doubts about the case you gave us.”

“For a consultation like that you should make an appointment,” he started saying, but then he changed his mind and gestured her. “Okay, but I don’t have much time…”

The student came in and he tried to solve her doubts. When he was teaching the second class of that day, he saw the girl of the office among the many faces that were there, and the had to concentrate really hard not to think about what had happened. Would she think that he was crazy, too?

****

When he finally finished his classes, he checked his phone and found two missed calls from the psychiatric facility where Abigail was. He called back the instant he was inside his car, and he had to hold for a few minutes until the nurse went to look for her and he finally heard Abigail’s voice at the other side.

“Hey, Abigail. Were you calling me?”

“Yeah, I was. I’m sorry if it wasn’t a good time, I don’t want to bother you…” she started saying, but he interrupted her.

“No, no, I was just in class. I told you that you could call me whenever you needed to talk. Is there something wrong?”

“No… Well. Not exactly, but I just…” she sighed, and Will sensed the anxiety on her voice.

Will checked his watch, but between the distance and the facility’s visiting hours, it was too late to go see her at that moment.

“Abigail, would you like to get out of there for a while?” he asked him, smiling.

When he arrived at his house, he went to take a walk with the dogs, and ended up in the same clearing where he and Hannibal had sat down. He appeared beside him in that moment too, probably because Will was thinking about him.

“You’re going to see Abigail today,” he said, and even though it wasn’t a question, Will nodded.

“She needs to get out of there…” he said, absently, and sighed. “I really hope I’m doing the right thing.”

“You mean about not telling Jack what she told you?” Hannibal asked, and he nodded again. “You _are_ doing the right thing, Will. She was just one of his father’s victims. She did what she had to do to survive.”

Will took a deep breath, but the lump in his throat didn’t go completely away, even if Hannibal had just said out loud exactly what he thought.

When they went back to the house, he changed into casual clothes and then they were on their way to Baltimore. When he arrived to the facility, he couldn’t avoid thinking what he had thought every time he went to Baltimore since the hallucinations had started; that he was in the same state as Hannibal Lecter, the _real_ one. He had wondered a few times what would happen if he went to the Hospital where he was imprisoned and requested an interview… But he shook his head. He knew what would happen: Hannibal Lecter would deny it, as he did with almost everybody, and that would only confirm that he was going crazy.

Will went into the facility and found that Abigail was already waiting for him, so he just signed to confirm that he was responsible for her, and then they went downtown and stopped in the first McDonald’s they found.

“Really?” Hannibal asked when they were waiting in the line of cars to order their food. “Please, don’t,” he said on the backseat, and Will had to repress a smile when he saw his face on the rear mirror.

Once they had their food, Will drove up to a park, and they sat on a bench, looking at The Patapsco River with the city’s buildings on the other side, reflecting the sunset.

“Thank you, Will,” Abigail said, while they took the food out of the plastic bags.

“For a McDonald’s meal? I mean, I’m sure it tastes good, but it’s not really a top-notch food.”

“No!” she said, smiling at his joke. “You know, for… coming.”

Will nodded, telling her without words that he knew what she meant.

“You sounded preoccupied on the phone,” he said, lowering his voice.

Abigail took one of her fries and took a little bite. Hannibal was standing in front of them, observing the river, but when he sensed the change of subject, he turned to look at them.

“Well… Alana keeps coming to see me. Which, I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like her and I’m glad for having visits, but… She keeps asking me things about my dad, and about everything, and I just… I don’t want to constantly talk about it, especially because she doesn’t know… _everything_.”

Will nodded, feeling her anger and frustration, but also how scared she was.

“I know. And like I said, you shouldn’t tell anyone about it.”

“Shouldn’t I?” she asked all of the sudden, knitting her brows. “I am a monster, Will.”

“Hey, Abigail,” he said, leaving the bag with food beside him and moving closer to her. “You are _not_ a monster, okay? Believe me, I know monsters,” he said, and his heart beat faster when he said that, because he _did_ know. “You are just a victim,” he said, repeating Hannibal’s words.

She tried to nod, not entirely convinced, but a little more calm. Will squeezed her hand a little and she smiled, cleaning a tear from her cheeks.

“Okay, let’s see what we have here,” Will said, opening his bag again.

“Do you really have to eat that?” Hannibal said again when he took the burger out. “Please, don’t do this to me,” he insisted, and Will smiled.

He raised the burger and opened his mouth, and he saw Hannibal taking a step closer.

“William, please.”

He took a mouthful from it, and he saw Hannibal closing his eyes and turning his face like he had been slapped. When he swallowed it, Hannibal opened his eyes them again, inhaling and letting the air out in a sigh.

“You’re killing me,” he said, almost in a whisper, and Will couldn’t help to chuckle.

“What?” Abigail asked, smiling too.

“Sorry, nothing, it’s just…” he saw Hannibal’s stiffness and laughed again.

“Will?!?” she told him, to demand an explanation.

When he could talk again, he thought that it had been too long since he had laughed. _Honestly_ laughed.

“Sorry, I was just remembering something…” he started lying, but then he thought of something. “Okay, can I tell you a secret?” he asked Abigail then, and she nodded. “I have an imaginary friend.”

He waited until she reacted, and when she didn’t change her expression, he continued. Hannibal approached them, interested in the conversation.

“He’s a… Well, he’s a killer, but he’s… so much more.”

“Oh?” she said, and she took a bite from her burger, probably thinking about what she could say to something like that.

Will forced a smile on his lips.

“I’m joking,” he lied, pushing Abigail a little with his shoulder. “He’s not imaginary.”

Abigail snorted and pushed him back with her elbow.

“Then… not imaginary? Were you joking about your friend being a killer?”

“No, not exactly. He’s in prison,” he said, and looked at Hannibal out of the corner of his eye: he was smiling. “And he’s a bit annoying, actually. But we talk a lot about… everything,” he said, and made a pause. “Do you think I am insane now?”

Abigail took another bite from her burger, and she swallowed it with a sip from her soda.

“No, I don’t. I considered it for a second when you said he was imaginary,” she half joked, and Will smiled. “I guess there are worse things than killers,” she said.

He nodded, finding a lot of truth in her words. He was now a killer too, so he _had_ to believe that there were worse things than him. Worse things, like Abigail’s father, or like most of the serial killers he had to get inside of their heads. And Abigail had to believe it too, because she still felt guilty about the girls her father had murdered…

Hannibal finally gave up and approached them. He sat by Abigail’s side, and while they ate, they contemplated the river illuminated with the dark orange tone of the sunset.

****

On Friday, he woke up feeling worse again. It was like his body knew when he didn’t have to go to work, so it wanted to reduce him to a barely functional being on the weekends.

Because of that, he decided to make the most of that day, since he was sure that the following days would be a lot worse. After having breakfast with Hannibal, he took the dogs for a long walk when the other disappeared. But, as usual, he didn’t miss the opportunity for cooking a meal, and he came back at lunchtime.

“Do you feel like having a special lunch? I always prefer dinners, but since you sort of owe me after yesterday’s… _meal_ …”

Will was on the table, grading more papers from his students, and he raised his gaze.

“Sure. What’s the occasion?” he asked.

“Not always a special occasion is required for a special meal.”

“Alright, then go for it,” he said, and then he saw Hannibal looking for something on his freezer. “I thought the meat _always_ had to be fresh,” he told him, remembering his speech before the dinner party he had thrown for Alana and Jack.

“I said, unless there was a clear opportunity to acquire it before,” he reminded him.

Will raised an eyebrow, and then he shook his head and focused back on his papers. When he finished working and he looked at the watch, he saw that it had been almost an hour and Hannibal was still in the kitchen. His head was buzzing a little with pain, but the worst was the sensation of not being able to completely focus his sight or his thoughts on anything because of the raising fever. And the fatigue… Will should’ve been used to it by now, but sometimes he felt his muscles so tense that he feared he was going to fall into pieces if he didn’t sleep. But then he went to sleep and he had nightmares, so he ended up waking up feeling even more tired than before. It was like an endless cycle…

He went to the bathroom and took a pill, and then he went to the kitchen, where he leaned against the counter and observed Hannibal moving with precision. Will didn’t understand what he was doing half the time he saw him cooking, but it was still captivating. The way he treated everything with such care, the way he took the knife like he was caressing it, the way he arranged the decoration so gently…

“Would you like to learn sometime?” Hannibal asked him, bringing him back to reality.

“What?”

Hannibal was placing everything on the plate and he was looking at him every time he placed something.

“Cooking. If you have an interest in learning, I could teach you.”

“Oh, I… I don’t think I have the talent for that. Besides, I prefer eating it,” he said, shrugging and smiling a little.

“As long as you like taking any part on it,” Hannibal said, smiling, and Will lowered his gaze, smiling too.

When they finally sat at the table, Hannibal put a plate full of little pieces of meat with vegetables and things unknown to him decorating everything.

“What is it?” he asked, while Hannibal served him with a spoon.

“Beef liver and onion with white wine. Of course, I’ve taken some liberties from the conventional recipe.”

Hannibal took the bottle of wine he had opened and served it in the two glasses before sitting down in front of him. Will tried the dish without being able to wait any longer, since it smelled amazing. And it didn’t disappoint; it tasted even better.

“I still don’t get how I’m doing all these meals… But compliments on the chef,” he said, sipping from the wine.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

“Thank you…?”

When he tried his own meal, he closed his eyes the moment the meat touched his mouth, and raised his head a little while he savored it. Will looked at the skin around his jaw, stretching when Hannibal chewed, and he had to remind himself to look away. When Hannibal seemed to come to himself, Will saw him smiling.

“So, tell me, Will. Do you really consider me your friend?” he asked, taking the glass of wine, smelling it and then sipping from it.

Will smiled, because he had known that he would bring that up sooner or later.

“Well… It’s a little sad, having in mind that you’re not real, but… I guess,” he said, shrugging. “I mean, you said it yourself. We’re basically sharing everything.”

He thought briefly on the shower incident last week, and cleared his throat to erase the thought before taking another bite from the meal.

That afternoon, he tried to focus again on the reports from old cases, but the fever kept getting in the way. He tried watching TV, reading and playing with the dogs… But in the end, after a less elaborated dinner, he ended up observing Hannibal while he was drawing. They were in the prison room, and Will was sitting on Hannibal’s bed with his back against the wall, but almost completely lay down. He was so tired that keeping his eyes opened was requiring all his will power.

“You don’t feel like going to bed tonight?” Hannibal asked, without taking his eyes from the drawing. He was sitting on the stool, leaning on the table with the locks of his hair falling over his forehead.

“I never feel like going to bed…” he said in a sleepy voice. “But no, especially not tonight.”

Hannibal raised his gaze, but in that moment a sort of bell sounded on the room, and Will looked around, confused.

“It looks like they’re telling _me_ it’s bedtime,” he said, and gathered the drawings on the metallic table. Then, he stood up and the setting changed around them, bringing them back to Will’s living room.

Will was sitting up then on the couch, and he rubbed his face with his hands; he _had_ to go to sleep eventually, but he still felt a pang of terror for having to face the moment.

He finally stood up and went to the bedroom, turning the lights from the living room off on his way. Will got in the bathroom and took off his clothes, not stopping to check if Hannibal was following him, but the other stayed in the bedroom. When he had brushed his teeth and used the toilet, he went out and found Hannibal sitting on the bed, examining the book on his nightstand. His posture reminded him exactly of the time he had walked out of the bathroom naked and he had been there: his back was leaning against the wall, and his legs were half on the bed, half hanging over the edge. He put on a white t-shirt and then went underneath the blankets. He covered up to his chest and put an arm over his head, on the pillow, and he stayed like that, looking at the ceiling.

“Why is it that you don’t want to go to sleep specifically tonight?” Hannibal asked him beside him, and he felt his heart going faster anticipating his own answer.

“Because… I’ve been having these dreams lately. I dream that I kill Metzger, over and over,” he whispered, and he closed his eyes; he saw himself breaking his neck and cutting through his abdomen. He blinked to erase the image of the blood flowing out of the body.

“And how is that different from the other nightmares you usually have?”

Will sighed and looked at him.

“These ones feel… different. _Too_ real. And at the same time, they don’t. I don’t know how to explain it,” he said, and he looked at the ceiling of his bedroom again. “Also, in the dream, I feel… _delight_ when I kill him. But it doesn’t feel like when I feel another killer’s pleasure. It feels entirely mine.”

“And that’s what scares you the most,” he guessed, and he answered even though it wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

Will yawned in that moment, and he felt like his eyelids weighed a ton and he couldn’t keep them open any longer.

He turned off the bedroom’s lamp and then he rolled over and stayed face down on the mattress. He felt himself falling asleep too quickly.

_Hannibal heard Will’s breathing grow deeper in a manner of minutes, while his back moved up and down. When he had told him about the ‘dreams’ he was having, he had felt his own pleasure at killing Metzger as Will’s, and he sensed how scared that made him. He was so afraid of his true nature..._

_In that moment, Hannibal remembered when Will had touched him for the first time, the way he had felt, so he extended his hand towards him… When his fingers made contact with the t-shirt fabric, he felt the explosion inside him; it was like he had been deaf and now could hear for the first time, like he had been blind and was now looking at the most beautiful landscape for the first time… It was impossible, and yet he moved his hand closer and he felt Will’s feverish skin under his fingertips. His heart and his breathing started going faster, but he kept his hand there, and then he felt it; Will’s heartbeats under his palm._

_“How can you be real…?” he whispered._

_Hannibal moved his hand away and lay down on the mattress; he wasn’t with Will anymore, but back in his bedroom._

****

_Hannibal spent his Saturday morning pretending like he was carefully listening at Chilton while he jabbered about a psychiatric article that a magazine had asked Hannibal to do, and then his midday and afternoon writing the piece with a completely different opinion from the one suggested by Chilton. The magazine was probably interested in him for the same reason most of them were now: because now they knew he was The Chesapeake Ripper, and because of the morbid fascination that caused on people. But he still gladly wrote most of the articles._

_When he finished, he realized it was almost nighttime and he hadn’t been at Will’s once in all day. The moment he stopped being so concentrated on writing, he felt a little dizzy, and he had to blink a couple of times. He recognized the feeling, but it didn’t make much sense, since it was like… like he was drunk._

_He heard someone whistling and then he appeared in Will’s living room… but everything was turned upside down. The chairs were moved, some of the books had fallen from the shelves, the couches had been moved too, there were papers, dirty plates and glasses over the tables, and the dogs were moving around the house, anxious. Hannibal felt uneasy at such disaster, and raised an eyebrow._

_“Hannibal?!?” Will yelled, appearing from the bedroom, followed by even more dogs._

_He was exactly as the house: his hair was disheveled and his clothes dirty and messy. When he approached him, Hannibal smelled the whisky on his breath long before he was close to him._

_“_ Where _were you!” he told him, and when he was almost beside him he tripped and Hannibal had to catch him before he fell to the floor._

 _“What… is going on?” he asked, not sure of even_ what _to ask._

_“He’s gone, Hannibal… Oh my god, I lost him, I’m the worst person in the world.”_

_Hannibal made him go to one of the couches and sit down, and then he did the same on one of the chairs, which were out of place._

_“Will, are you drunk?”_

_“What? No…” he said, and then he half-closed his eyes, like he was considering something. “Well, maybe a little bit.”_

_Hannibal closed his eyes and, for a second, he seriously considered going back to his room and not returning until the morning, but he dismissed the thought. He imagined that Will had been drinking to ease the headache, but he had never seen him drink_ that _much._

_“But that doesn’t matter! Hannibal, please, this is important,” he said._

_“What is, Will?”_

_“I already told you! I lost him!”_

_“Lost_ what _?” he asked, emphasizing the word so he understood him._

_“Buster!” he finally said, and he seemed like he was about to cry. “I lost him… Oh my god, Buster… Buster!!” Will yelled, and Hannibal had to move away at the loud voice._

_Hannibal knew that ‘Buster’ was one of his many dogs, but he had absolutely no idea of which one, and all of them were whining and going around the house, trying to understand what was happening._

_Hannibal reached Will’s mind a little, but quickly backed up, because the intoxication and the fever hit him like a bright light on a dark room._

_“Okay, Will, calm down,” he told him, and he grabbed his arm when he tried to stand up, making him sit down again. “Did you leave him outside?”_

_“I don’t know… maybe. I don’t remember,” he said, and he pouted again._

_“Okay, wait here… I’ll go see.”_

_He got up and went to the door, sighing. He opened it and looked outside, but he didn’t see any dog. He whistled, just in case, but no dog came, and that only made the dogs inside more nervous._

_When he closed the door, he came back with Will, and he was leaning on the couch, falling asleep, but suddenly sit up, looking at him._

_“Did you find him?”_

_“No, I-“_

_“Oh my… I can’t believe I lost a_ dog _, I mean who does that? And a_ deaf _dog” he said, dragging the vowels dramatically._

_“He’s deaf?” he asked, and Will nodded. “Then why are you calling-”_

_Hannibal stopped talking and closed his eyes again. He could_ not _believe the situation. He went to the bathroom and took two pills, which he gave to Will with a glass of water._

_“Take these, Will,” he said, and the other didn’t even look at them when he took them and swallowed them. “Now, focus. Why don’t you describe me Buster?”_

_“Buster?” he asked, and Hannibal nodded, patiently. “Well… he’s deaf,” he told him again. “He’s one of the smaller ones, and he’s white, except for the head and a couple of brown dots on the back.”_

_Hannibal looked at one of the dog beds, in which the_ only _dog that wasn’t running around the house was laying down perfectly calm. It was a small, white and brown dog. He let out a long sigh and stood up, took the dog and went to Will._

_“Is this Buster, Will?”_

_He looked at him and his face lit up with a smile._

_“Oh my god, it’s Buster!” Will stood up and took the dogs on his arms, hugging him. The poor dog looked at Hannibal confused. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”_

_“Okay, I think it’s bedtime for you, Will.”_

_The other let Hannibal guide him to the bedroom, and then he sat on the bed, with the dog still on his arms. Hannibal went back to the living room, where he tried to put some order in the mess that was the house. When everything was acceptable and the dogs had already calmed down, he came back to the bedroom. Will seemed to have fallen asleep on top of the sheets, while hugging Buster. Hannibal took his shoes off and took a blanket from the living room. When he was covering him, Will moved and smiled a little._

_“Don’t tell him anything…” he said, without opening his eyes._

_“Tell what, Will?” he asked, curious._

_“That I like his accent,” he muttered._

_“Whose?” he asked, but Will seemed to have fallen asleep, so he finished covering him with the blanket, leaving the dog out._

_“Hannibal’s accent…”_

_He smiled, amused by Will’s drunken revelation. Then, he turned off the lights, and before he went back to his room, he looked at him for a moment._

_“Sleep well, Will. Tomorrow we have important things to do,” he whispered._

****

The following day, he had another blank day caused by the fever. He only remembered waking up in the middle of the night, going to the bathroom and throwing up everything that he had drank the previous afternoon. When he went back to the bed, he saw that Buster was there and he frowned. He never let the dogs sleep on top of the bed, it was the one place that was banned for them. Will pushed him a little and the dog went to the floor reluctantly. Then, he fell on top bed and blacked out.

_Hannibal went to Will that morning, and he proceeded to start watching and stabilizing Will’s fever. He was eager to go out like last week, but he had to wait until night for two main reasons: the first, he had to be careful not to get Will caught, or his escapades would end. The second, he didn’t want to be interrupted by a nurse or a visit from Chilton…_

_So he spent the day putting towels on Will’s forehead and changing his shirt and sheets, but he didn’t give him any pills so the fever wouldn’t drop too much. He had to leave him for a while on the afternoon, since Chilton paid him a visit to try to make him change his mind about the article. Hannibal thanked him for his concern, but told him that he was standing by it, which provoked the doctor to storm out after subtlety telling him that maybe the nurse would forget his dinner._

_When night came, he was already feeling a little impatient, his skin itching in anticipation. He repeated what he had done the previous week; he gave Will a sleeping pill, even though he seriously doubted he would wake up at any point. Then, he entered Will’s body and got ready. The file he took that time was one that he had seen Will studying that week, of another case they hadn’t been able to close due to the lack of evidence, and it was in Baltimore._

_When he arrived to the suspect’s home, he saw that there was light inside the house, but a few minutes later, the man went out and got into his car. Hannibal followed him from a distance to an old and deteriorated strip club. When the man went inside, he got out and approached the other’s car, where he stabbed one of the wheels once he was sure nobody was around. Then, he waited for almost two hours until the man came out and returned to his car. He followed him again, but it wasn’t long until the other noticed the deflated wheel and stopped at the roadside. Hannibal did the same and stopped behind him._

_“I can’t believe this shit! Fucking thing!” the man yelled while he kicked the wheel._

_The road where they were was a secondary one, and it didn’t even have streetlights, so Hannibal couldn’t have asked for a more perfect scenario. When he went out of the car, leaving Will on the backseat, the man looked at him._

_“Hey man, could you help me- What…?” he asked, squinting to try to distinguish in the darkness._

_Hannibal knew that he would be seeing a half-asleep man, but he felt more awake than ever._

_“Sure, I’ll help you,” Hannibal answered, and touched a little the knife on the pocket of Will’s coat._

_“Look, man, never mind. I’m just going to call a tow truck…”_

_The man turned around to take his phone, giving Hannibal the perfect opportunity; he leaped on him, grabbing him by the neck with his arms and suffocating him. This one struggled harder than his last prey, but he endured the weak attempts without much effort. When he finally stopped moving, he let himself catch his breath and he saw Will standing beside him. His eyes were half-open, but Hannibal knew that later he would remember everything like a feverish dream._

_Hannibal got the man on the backseat of the car and cut through him, letting the blood spilling over the leather seats. He would have to clean all that later, but in that moment he just inhaled and leaned his head backwards, enjoying the exultant feeling._

_When he arrived back at Wolf Trap it was almost sunrise, and he was could feel his fatigue combined with Will’s fever. He put the meat he had acquired that night on the freezer, he looked Will’s car over just in case, and then he cleaned Will’s hands and searched for any possible stains of blood, but didn’t find any._

_After he had changed him into his pajama and put a new towel on his forehead, he finally left Will on his bed and he turned all the lights off. He closed his eyes to focus on his room in Baltimore when he heard the other moving on the mattress._

_“Hannibal.”_

_He opened his eyes at the sound of his voice and looked at him. He had risen a little from the bed, leaning on his elbow, and he was fighting against the fever to try to open his eyes, but he didn’t look lucid._

_“Hannibal…” he repeated, and fell back on the mattress, frowning. “Stay, please…”_

_He swallowed and closed his eyes, considering going back to his room and getting some sleep… But after a few seconds, he approached Will again and sat at the edge of the bed, putting the towel back on his forehead, which it had fallen when he had moved._

_“I’m here,” he said, and Will groaned and curled up, hugging his pillow._

_Hannibal stayed there, listening to Will’s breathing and watching the sun rising through the windows._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the Sense8 references. I hope that you recognized the ' _Hernando, I lost a flip-flop/It's very important!!_ ' parallel with the Buster scene hahahah.
> 
>  
> 
> Ok, songs!
> 
> Referenced in the chapter:
> 
> · [Cocaine Blues](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ffiv6pMuxlY), Johnny Cash - Joaquin Phoenix Cover in 'Walk the Line' (No disrespect to Johnny Cash, but I just love this cover so much. And daaaamn Joaquin can sing, you know?)  
> · [It ain't me babe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HBHXUOogpOg), Johnny Cash & June Carter.  
> · [Beethoven Concerto no5 in E flat major Op. 73](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pEYajsa8NeM) (or, the one that appears in a Sense8 episode :) )
> 
>  
> 
> And for the fanfic's playlist:
> 
> · [Glory](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-IkdURTOmw), Radical Face  
> · [I will possess your heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PsCV61zsdtA), Death Cab For Cutie  
> · [Human](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0EnrFe3Zb6k), Of Monsters and Men
> 
> More next week! :)


	8. Eight

The following days, he kept having the strange dreams in which he killed someone, and they were too real and incredibly confusing at the same time. But the dreams changed; instead of killing Metzger, he saw himself killing another person that he ended up recognizing as another suspect of one of his old cases. Instead of waiting in an alley, he waited in a car. Instead of breaking the man’s neck, he choked him while the other tried to break free... The only thing that was sort of the same was the ending of the dream: he ended up cutting his victim and looking at the blood on his hands under the moonlight right before he woke up. But in the fourth day that he was dreaming this, he saw something different; when he was strangling him, he suddenly saw Hannibal doing it, looking at him with a calm but wild expression while the man struggled in his arms.

He woke up gasping for air, as if he was the one suffocating. When he realized that there were no hands around his neck, he finally breathed in and sat at the edge of the bed, shaking. In that moment, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped, standing up abruptly. Hannibal was sitting at the other side of the bed, and he was looking at him, with an inquiring expression.

“I’m fine…” he lied, and he went to the bathroom as quickly as he could, avoiding his gaze.

When he finally came into the living room a few minutes later, Hannibal had already prepared breakfast. He tried to eat in silence, not looking at him, but the other seemed to have other plans, because he started asking him questions about everything: work, the house, the food they were eating… Will tried to disguise it, but the truth was that he felt his heart racing with apprehension every time Hannibal looked or talked to him, remembering the look he had on his eyes in his dream.

“Is there something wrong, Will?” Hannibal asked him when he answered with a monosyllable for the fourth time.

“No,” he said, averting his eyes.

They had finished eating, so Will stood up without looking at him and took the plates to the kitchen, where he started loading the dishwasher. He saw Hannibal appearing beside him and started helping him. But at some point, they tried to put something in the same place, and their hands grazed. Will moved his hand away brusquely and he dropped the mug on the floor, which shattered with a loud noise. Will observed the mess for a couple of seconds, feeling even more anxious than before. He saw Hannibal beginning to crouch to pick up the broken pieces, but he raised his hands to stop him.

“No! No… I got it.”

“Will…” he started saying, clearly sensing that something was wrong.

“I said I got it!” Will answered, still refusing to look at him.

Hannibal finally gave in, and when Will took the broom to clean everything, he retired to the living room.

At that point, he knew that Hannibal was some sort of representation of the worst part of his mind; after all, he was a serial killer. But knowing it was one thing… Seeing it in his dream had been unsettling, and it had felt _so_ real…

 _Hannibal returned to his room in Baltimore while Will cleaned the kitchen and he sat on the stool, looking at his_ real _breakfast. He had learned that, even though he could feel everything he ate when he was visiting Will, that food didn’t really nourish his body. So he ended up having to eat twice, although most of the times he didn’t find the strength to eat the garbage that was awaiting him there after having cooked and tasted_ real _food. That morning he had no intention of eating his breakfast either, but for a completely different reason: Will. He was acting strangely towards him, and he feared that he was remembering more clearly the murders. His plan was to let him know at some point, but Will wasn’t ready, not yet…_

_In that moment, the doors opened and Frederick Chilton came in the room, smiling and with two guards flaking him. Hannibal sighed, because he didn’t have the patience to bear him that day._

_“Good morning, Doctor Lecter. How are we today?”_

_“Excellent, thank you,” he answered, a little brusque._

_Chilton tilted his head but didn’t say anything about his tone. Then, he glimpsed at his tray, with the food intact._

_“The nurses have been informing me that you’re not eating properly. You skip meals, sometimes more than one in the same day,” he said, still smiling. He was_ not _worried about his health. “Is there something wrong with our food?”_

_“I wouldn’t know where to begin to properly answer that question,” he replied._

_“Watch it, Lecter,” he warned him, losing his smile._

_Hannibal’s lips curved a little upwards, and he slowly stood up from the stool._

_“I’m sorry, am I being impolite,_ Doctor _Chilton? Are you going to punish me serving me oatmeal?” he said, mocking him. “Or switching off the lights during a whole day? Or maybe you are going to take my books for a week?”_

_He had been circling the table while he said that, and he was now approaching to the glass._

_“Lecter, go back behind the table!” Chilton said, while taking a step backwards even though he was way out of Hannibal’s reach._

_He touched the glass with a hand and bent over, and then he sniffed through one of the holes on the glass, even though he didn’t really need it to distinguish the scents of the people outside._

_“Is that a woman’s perfume I sense, Doctor Chilton?” he asked, and then clicked his tongue. “I bet you’d love to have her for dinner...”_

_“That’s enough!” the other yelled, red with rage. “You have gone_ too _far.”_

_Hannibal smiled while they went out of the room, and then his smile faded._

_That afternoon, they returned and took every single book and all of his paintings. Hannibal thought they were going to take the bed too, but they left it._

_“Don’t you think this is it. Have fun tonight,” Chilton told him from the other side of the glass, after the guard had taken the handcuffs off._

_They all went outside, and he closed his eyes, knowing what he meant._

****

Will went to bed early after taking a pill, because he was too tired to even try to read or watch TV. He had been on a murder scene that day, and it had completely worn him out. But strangely, that night he didn’t dream about that murder, or about the dreams in which he killed the same man over and over… And still, he woke up falling from the bed gasping and looking around him, because he had felt as if something had hit him on his side with violence.

“What the…?” he said, and turned on the lamp.

He looked around him, and the only ones there were Zoe and Riley, looking at him from their beds. He tried to breath normally, but in that moment he heard the sound of water. And it wasn’t like rain, but like… like there was a stream of water coming abundantly out of somewhere.

He stood up unsure… and his room disappeared around him and a poorly illuminated room replaced it. Then, he tried to understand what he was seeing; there were two guards, one of them was holding a big hose that was closed in that moment, while the other was standing beside him, looking at the watch on his wrist… And across from them was Hannibal, handcuffed and chained to a metal ring on the wall. He was completely naked, except for a white mask that covered his mouth and up to his nose…

“Hit him again,” the second guard said, and the one holding the hose turned it on.

The water went out with a speed and a violence that Will wouldn’t have think was possible, and it hit Hannibal on the back, sending him against the wall. He tried to remain on his feet, but the force of the water made him eventually fall on one knee. Will wanted to scream, to yell at them, to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth. He didn’t understand what was happening.

“Okay, stop,” the guard said, and the other turned it off.

Hannibal stood up again and Will realized in that moment that _he_ was shaking. He was suddenly freezing, like he was the one soaked and naked on a cold, dark room. And he felt something else: he felt shame, and rage, and the indignity, and the fury that was burning inside Hannibal… but also inside him, as his own. Will approached him and Hannibal turned to him, with the locks of wet hair swinging over his forehead, and they looked at each other. Will felt the need to raise his hands and touch him, but he controlled himself. He turned around instead, to hide the tears that were threatening to come out. It finally hit Will what was happening: he was being punished. But how could they do that? How were they capable of such a thing?

“Alright, time for another round,” the guard announced, and Will knew what they were going to do.

Will turned again to look at Hannibal, and he shook his head. He wished to be able to stop them, to be able to stand between the water and him, to be able to be the one in his place… And suddenly, he was. He looked at his hands, and saw them handcuffed and chained to the wall. He could feel the metal on his wrists, and the cold and wet floor under his bare feet… and then the water hit him.

He was thrown against the wall before he could even wrap his mind around what was happening, and he clenched his jaw, feeling the force of the water on his back and fearing that all the bones of his body were breaking. He endured it as he could, and it felt like a long time even though he knew it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. When it finally ended, he let himself fall to the ground, feeling nothing but pain. He opened his eyes and saw a blurry Hannibal standing beside him, looking at him with his eyes widened, confused.

“Okay, I think this son of a bitch has had enough,” one the guards said, but Will heard him like he was far away.

They unchained him from the wall without taking the handcuffs off, and then they got him on a stretcher, where they put some sort of sheet over him and tied him so he couldn’t move at all. In that moment, everything changed again and he found himself back on his bedroom. He fell on the floor, since his legs couldn’t support him. When he was able to stand up, he stumbled towards the bathroom and looked in the mirror; he was shaking, although he didn’t find any injuries… But he _knew_ that it hadn’t been a dream. He tried to go back to sleep, but only managed to nod off, because every time he was falling asleep, he saw flashes of what had just happened and he woke up startled with his heart beating so fast that it almost hurt him.

He finally gave up when he sun was rising, so he got up and he went to the living room… Where he found Hannibal. Will immediately felt a pang in the chest, and he stood there, not sure of what to do. He was sitting in his usual spot at the table, and he seemed to be playing with a pen, but Will knew that he was only doing that in order to have something to occupy his hands with. And even though he was a little far from him, he noticed a bruise on his right cheek, probably from when the force of the water had pushed him against the wall, and he felt his stomach shrinking.

Will swallowed and thought about saying something to him, anything… but in the end, he decided that there was nothing he could say to him, not in that moment. Instead, he just went to the kitchen and started preparing breakfast. He made orange juice, squeezing the fruit like Hannibal used to do. He also made coffee, scrambled eggs with bacon and toasts, and took everything to the table. When he sat down, Hannibal was looking at the breakfast, and Will thought that he was going to reject it. But after a few seconds, he finally moved, took a toast, and started buttering it.

Will did what Hannibal used to, and served the scrambled eggs and bacon on both plates. After that, he poured the coffee and prepared it like he had seen him do almost every day, and then he realized something; it was the first time _he_ had prepared breakfast for both of them. Will had thought that it was ridiculous to do so, considering that he was a hallucination, but in that moment, he just didn’t care.

They ate in silence, and Will glanced at him from time to time, feeling a pang of pain every time he saw the wounds on his wrists, or the bruises he could see on his cheek and neck. But he knew that the worst ones would be on his back, and even though he couldn’t see them, he felt a shiver running down his spine every time he thought about it, because he pictured them too clearly in his head.

Will also tried to read him, but his expression was blank. He wasn’t sure if Hannibal was ashamed, angry, or both. He thought that maybe he was angry with him for his sympathy, maybe he thought he had prepared breakfast because he felt bad for him… And that wasn’t entirely false, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he finally said when they had finished eating and they remained silent for a couple of minutes. “For what I saw last night.”

Hannibal finally looked at him in the eyes, and his expression didn’t change.

“Why did you do that?” he said then, and Will frowned. “Putting yourself in my place, knowing that you would feel… everything.”

“I don’t know…” Will shrugged a little. “I just… I couldn’t just stand there and watch, I didn’t want you to go through that alone.”

He didn’t say anything and Will let his gaze fall to his hands, interlaced over the table. He now feared that Hannibal was _really_ mad at him.

“You’re worried that I’m angry with you. That your sympathy offends me,” Hannibal said, and he felt his heart beating faster, because he was right. “I’m not,” he explained, and Will looked at him again. Hannibal leaned a little forward with an almost imperceptible sign of pain, resting his elbows on the table. “It’s not even sympathy. You are _all_ empathy, Will. No pity, no judgment…”

“Then why does it look like it bothers you?” he asked, frowning.

Hannibal licked his lower lip and looked at his hands before answering.

“Because empathy means connection. _Emotional_ connection. And I’m not sure I want that...”

Will barked a laugh without being able to avoid it.

“My hallucination thinks an emotional connection is worse than what we already have? You’re already in my mind, in my life, in my skin,” he said before he could think about it.

They both fell silent, and they stayed like that for what felt like hours, sitting at the table and looking at each other from time to time, not being able to say anything else.

****

The month went by too quickly and too slowly at the same time.

Will kept having headaches almost every day, and the fever kept coming back no matter how many pills he took. One day he said over breakfast that maybe he _should_ go to see a doctor, even though the idea paralyzed him with terror. Hannibal hesitated for a second, but then he advised him against it. It made sense because he was, after all, voicing his inner side that completely refused that idea. So he kept having some days in which the fever was so bad that he didn’t remember anything at all. One of them, he had a moment of lucidity in the middle of the night and he tried to get out of bed, only to find that Hannibal was there. He made him lay down again, and placed a damped towel on his head. When he woke up the next day, he wasn’t there anymore, so he wasn’t sure if that had been a hallucination caused by the fever or one of his ‘normal’ ones.

He also started having blackouts, and they weren’t the same as the days when he had a fever and later couldn’t remember anything. They were moments, sometimes minutes, other times even a few hours, in which he absolutely had no idea of what he had done. One day, he appeared at his house, not remembering how he had gotten there from the university. Another time he was leaving a crime scene and the next thing he knew was that he was at a roadside café, with a half eaten meal in front of him.

The nightmares kept haunting him almost every night, sometimes coming in the form of the killers from the cases he was working on, and other times being the _other_ kind of dreams; the ones in which he saw himself killing some of the suspects from the cases he hadn’t been able to close, a different one every so often.

Most of the nights, when he woke up from a nightmare, he usually found Hannibal there, like he was _invoking_ him. Sometimes, he would wake up and they would just look at each other and go back to sleep, like they had a tacit agreement. But other times Hannibal wouldn’t wake up, so Will would just lie down next to him, looking at the muscles from his back going up and down at the rhythm of his breathing, and he would slip into a dreamless sleep.

He visited Abigail two more times, and he took her away from the facility so she could clear her head. She told him that Alana thought she was making progress, and maybe soon she would be able to go. That sounded like good news, but she looked sad after she had said it, and Will knew how anxious it made her feel to think about what would happen when she was released.

Then, when there were only two weeks left, he received Jack and Bella’s anniversary party invitation and he panicked, because he hadn’t bought any present and he didn’t have a decent suit to wear. When he told Hannibal, his face lit up with a smile… And so, the next day they went shopping. Hannibal made him go to four different clothes stores, and try on so many suits that he lost count after the twentieth. He always found something that was missing, something they had wrong, something that didn’t quite fit… Until Will put on one that he swore he had already tried before, and he looked at Hannibal on the mirror. He was facing the fitting room’s door, as Will had asked him to do while he tried on the suit.

“Okay, you can look,” he said turning around, discouraged, waiting for him to find something wrong with that suit too. But when the other turned and looked at him, he smiled with a gleam in his eyes.

“That’s it,” he said. “That’s the one.”

Will paused for a moment, and then smiled.

“Really? Oh my god, finally,” he said, feeling like crying with relief.

“Yes. Well, you have the suit, but now you need matching shoes and belt. And don’t forget that you still have to buy the presents.”

Will’s smile faded, and he felt like crying again… But not with relief.

When he went to pay the suit, the clerks looked at him from the corner of their eyes, and he knew that they must’ve heard him speaking alone on the fitting room.

“I was… talking on the phone,” he said, and the guy nodded, not entirely convinced. “My friend knows about suits, so…”

He fell silent, and finally gave his credit card to the waiting clerk. Hannibal was beside him, trying to suppress a smile. He thought that maybe he should buy an earpiece. That way maybe he would look less crazy…

A few days later, when he had _finally_ bought everything he needed, he went to the laboratory and the guys briefed Jack and him about a case they were working on. But when he was about to head to the university, Beverly followed him out of the lab and asked him if he had a moment to talk.

“Sure,” he said, and Beverly went inside an empty office.

He followed her while she took her gloves off.

“I was wondering, are you going with somebody to Jack and Bella’s party?”

“Uh… actually, no. I’m going stag,” he said, shrugging a little.

“Would you like to go with me?” she asked, and Will raised his eyebrows with surprise. “No, I don’t mean… _like that_. Not like a date,” she quickly explained, raising the palms of her hands.

“Oh, okay,” Will said, smiling at her.

“I meant going as friends. That way we won’t go alone _and_ we won’t have to hear constant questions about why are we single, right?” she joked.

He laughed and nodded.

“Right,” he said. “Fine, then. We’ll go as friends.”

They agreed to talk more about it when the date was closer, and then she went into the lab and he went to the university. Halfway there, he wondered if she hadn’t _actually_ wanted to ask him on a date, and he panicked a little. He really liked Beverly, but not in a romantic way.

Finally, the day before the party came, and that night he started packing his suitcase. While he did that, he wondered who on earth would choose to marry on December; he was going to be out two days, and the suitcase was almost full due to the size of the clothes. And that was only the normal clothes, since the suit was on a suit bag, separately.

“So, what is the planning?” Hannibal asked him, going into the bedroom.

He had been cooking something on the kitchen, but he was either on a pause, or he had already finished.

“For tomorrow?” he asked while he folded a dark blue sweater. Hannibal sat at the edge of the bed, taking an old shirt and examining it with an eyebrow raised. Will took it from his hands before he could make any comments. “Jack told me the guests had to be there by noon, so I’ll just get up and head over there after breakfast. It’s only an hour away from here, so I don’t have to get up too early.”

The place where Jack and Bella had decided to celebrate their anniversary was a compound of cabins in the middle of the mountain. They had rented the whole complex for two days, and they had hired a catering service, along with a lot of activities for everyone to do, according to what Jack had told him. He was partly excited and partly scared about it, but he was trying not worry too much about it, even though it wasn’t working that much. Jack had told him that maybe there would be an opportunity to go fishing, so after he put everything he needed on the suitcase, he closed it and took it to the front door, where he left it for the next day. Then, he went to the cabin outside and took his tackle box and his fishing rod, and left everything beside the suitcase.

“Did you let Jerome know you were going away?” Hannibal asked when he entered the living room again.

He was setting the table, putting the glasses and cutlery. Will looked at the dogs; Ellie and Winston were both pulling from a toy rope, playing.

“Yeah, he’ll come by tomorrow,” he said, going to the kitchen to help Hannibal.

Jerome was a twenty-something kid that went to let the dogs out of the house when Will was away, or when he knew a murder scene would take longer than he expected. He lived on the nearest houses from there, which weren’t exactly close, but he paid him well enough so that that wasn’t problem.

Will helped him set the table, and they finally sat down. Hannibal had prepared something he didn’t even know how to call, but it smelled delicious, so he didn’t ask. They began eating, and then… Then Will raised his head and looked around, confused. He was on the couch, and the TV was turned on. Hannibal was on the other couch, watching what looked like a documentary, but in that moment he turned to look at him.

“Will?” he asked him, sensing his confusion.

“I… We were having dinner,” he said, and he felt his head throbbing with pain, so he leaned forwards, rubbing his temples. “How much time has passed?”

“Since dinner?” Hannibal asked, and he nodded. “Around an hour.”

Will laughed a little ironically. He had lost an entire hour, _again_.

“Fuck.”

Will heard him turning the TV off, getting up and then Hannibal crouched down before him. Will let him raise his head a little, and then he touched his forehead without hesitation. Will knew then that he had a fever, because he felt Hannibal’s hands cool against his skin.

“The fever isn’t very high. Tell me your name, the date and where you are,” he told him.

Hannibal had done this the previous times he had told him he had had a blackout, so it didn’t surprise him.

“My name is Will Graham… It’s Friday, and I’m in Wolf Trap, Virginia,” he recited, looking at him in the eyes.

The other nodded and, after a couple of seconds, he finally moved his hand from his forehead.

“You probably should go to bed early. And take two pills instead of one,” he told him, getting up.

Will nodded, and then he did exactly as he told him. He went to sleep only after taking a couple of pills. He hoped that the fever would lower, or he would have to cancel the trip.

When he was falling asleep, he sensed the mattress moving with the weight of another body, but it didn’t surprise him. He was used to sleeping next to Hannibal by now…

****

When Will arrived to the cabins compound, he guessed that there were a lot of people already there, judging by the many cars that were on the parking lot. He parked on one of the last spots, and then took his suitcase, the suit bag and the fishing stuff, and tried to carry it all through the pebbles pathway. He started seeing the cabins scattered at both sides of the pathway, but he soon found what he was looking for: what looked like the main building, which was separated into a small office with a sign that said ‘reception’ on top of the door, and another huge wooden building that, Will supposed, would be the hall where the party would take place.

“Hi. I’m Will Graham,” he said to the woman he found inside the reception, who seemed to be in charge of everything.

“Okay, Mr. Graham…” she said, looking at the list she had on her hands. “Yes, this is you. Cabin eighteen,” she said, and a young girl took the keys from behind the desk. “Susan will walk you to your cabin. Enjoy your stay with us, Mr. Graham.”

The girl offered her help when he went out again and he almost tripped and dropped the tackle box, so he gave it to her and thanked her.

“This is it,” she said, opening the cabin and leaving the tackle box on a table inside. “I hope you enjoy your stay!”

He thanked her again and gave her a tip. When she was gone, he went inside and left the suit bag on top of the table, and the suitcase and the fishing rod on the floor while he looked around. The cabin was gorgeous, entirely made of wood and spacious. It had a large bed, a wooden table with two chairs next to the entry, a space with two armchairs and a coffee table pointing at a fireplace and even a small kitchen with cupboards and a fridge.

“This is lovely,” Hannibal said, making his usual appearance.

He had been with him at the beginning of the trip, complaining about the music, as usual, so Will had let him tune the classical music station reluctantly, even though he was beginning to appreciate it. But he had disappeared halfway, and Will had made the rest of the trip alone with his thoughts.

“It really is,” Will said, sitting on the edge of the bed to try the mattress. “Renting and organizing all this must’ve cost them an arm and a leg.”

Hannibal looked at him and gave him a wolfish smile, to which Will answered rolling his eyes, getting the pun he had made unintentionally. Then, he proceeded to examine the fridge.

“Good old Jack,” Hannibal said, and Will saw that it was full of small bottles of alcohol.

“Yeah, don’t. Do you know how much those cost?”

“I believe the correct answer in this situation is, nothing.”

He held a little card and Will stood up and went to him to examine it. The card said ‘ _You are invited to help yourselves to anything you like. Jack & Bella_.’ Will raised an eyebrow. They _really_ had spared no expenses.

In that moment, someone knocked at the door, and he went to open it.

“Will,” Jack greeted him, and they shook hands. “They told me you had arrived.”

“Yeah, I just got here,” Will said, smiling a little. It was strange to see Jack in casual clothes, almost like he had expected to see him wearing the same suits he wore at work.

“Well, get settled, change into more suitable clothes, whatever you want. People are already going to the hall, and lunch is in…” he said, looking at his watch. “About half an hour.”

“Great, I’ll be there.”

Jack said goodbye to him and went away. When Will closed the door, he turned around and looked at his shirt and pants, furrowing his brow.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” he asked Hannibal, referring to the comment Jack had made.

Hannibal was pouring a small bottle of what Will guessed would be whiskey in a glass, and he just raised his eyebrows.

“Do you really want to go there?”

Will _really_ didn’t, so he just hanged the suit on the wardrobe and then left Hannibal there while he took a quick shower. And, since the gala occasion would be on the dinner, he changed into a better shirt with a grey jacket on top.

When he went into the hall, he found that there were a _lot_ more people than he had expected. Jack had said that only the family’s friends would be invited, but Will doubted most of those people were close or even friends… After all, he was there and he wasn’t exactly a close friend, but at least he saw Jack almost every day. He greeted Alana, Price, Zeller, Beverly and some other people he knew from the FBI. And then, he saw someone that made his stomach turn inside out.

“Will!” Jack called him, and gestured him so he would come closer. “Will, this is-“

“Doctor Chilton,” he said, not being able to stop himself.

Hannibal was beside him, and he couldn’t look at him, but he knew that he probably was glaring at the man. The psychiatrist looked surprise when Will said his name.

“You know each other?” Jack asked, and Will cleared his throat, trying to hide his displeasure. _Hannibal_ ’s displeasure.

“Actually, no. I only know about him by reputation,” he said, and it wasn’t a lie, after all.

“I hope that everything you heard was good!” he joked, and Will faked a smile when he laughed. “Well, I have to say, I also have heard so many things about you. It’s an honor to finally meet the young and incredibly talented profiler Will Graham.”

He shook the hand that Chilton was offering him, and he had to control himself not to squeeze it. He knew that wasn’t the Frederick Chilton he saw on his hallucinations, but he still couldn’t help to dislike him.

“People tend to exaggerate everything,” he said, avoiding the eye contact.

In that moment, a waiter approached them with a tray full of food. They all took a canapé from it.

“Oh, this is a wonderful caviar. Salmon, isn’t it?” Chilton asked Jack when he ate it.

“I have no idea, actually. My wife was the one who chose all the food, she’s the culinary expert,” Jack told him.

“Well, she has impeccable taste. Although the best caviar I’ve ever tasted is the Sevruga caviar. Exquisite.”

“I’m sure you’ve learned everything about finger food from your patients at the Hospital,” Will told him, not being able to contain himself, and he calmly sipped from the glass of wine he had picked up when he had entered the hall.

Jack looked at him frowning, and Chilton seemed perplexed, unsure of what to answer. Will turned a little and saw that Hannibal was smiling, showing his teeth.

“Er… I’m sorry Frederick, but you’re going to have to excuse us, I have to keep greeting the guests. We’ll keep talking later, okay?” Jack intervened, putting a hand on Will’s shoulder and pulling him backwards.

Chilton said goodbye to them and went to mingle, and Will thanked Jack internally.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Dr. Chilton,” Will said when they were far enough so he couldn’t hear him.

“I’m not. We’ve met several times on some cases, but he works with Alana and has a way of slipping through,” Jack explained, and then he stopped walking and looked at him, serious. “Are you okay? You seem… shaky. I mean, more than usual,” he told him, and Will smiled without enthusiasm.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Social situations are not my forte,” he said, drinking from his glass.

“Well, then should I postpone the moment when I finally introduce you to my wife, or…?” Jack asked.

Will smiled, and then took a larger sip from the wine.

“Now is fine.”

He led him through the many tables that were filling the huge hall, in which some people were already sitting and others were still standing and chatting, eating some snacks or drinking. They finally got to a circle of people, and in the center was a beautiful woman that Will immediately recognized from the photos on Jack’s office, even though she looked thinner then, probably a side effect of her disease.

“Bella,” Jack said, kissing her cheek and touching her waist delicately. “This is Will Graham. Will, this is Bella.”

When she approached him, he took her hand and kissed the back. It seemed appropriate in that moment, even though he didn’t remember doing that when he had met any other woman.

“ _Piacere_ , Will,” she said, and he smiled.

“ _Il piacere è tutto mio_ ,” he answered, freeing her hand.

Bella took a step backwards so she was beside Jack again, and they looked at each other for a second.

“I didn’t know you spoke Italian, Will,” Jack told him.

“Italian? I… I don’t speak Italian,” he said, laughing, thinking they were joking.

Hannibal was next to him, and Will looked at him briefly, only to confirm that he was smiling, amused.

“Well, then you speak some _fine_ non-Italian,” Bella said, and the three of them laughed, but Will felt a little uneasy.

When he excused himself, he sat in one of the farthest tables and tried some of the food that was already displayed on the table.

“Will.”

He raised his gaze and found Alana, who sat in the chair next to him.

“Alana,” he nodded, and he saw Hannibal leaning forwards on the chair at his other side.

“How are you doing?” she asked, because they hadn’t talked despite having seeing each other at his arrival.

“I’m good. Just hiding for a bit,” he confessed, and she smiled.

“I know what you mean. I think I only know about a thirty percent of the people who are here.”

“You know _that_ many?” Will said, and she laughed.

Alana took a canapé from one of the plates of the table.

“Abigail told me that your sessions are going okay?” he asked her, changing the subject.

“Yeah,” she said after sipping from her glass of wine. “I think she’s doing much better. I’ll probably recommend her release in a few weeks, maybe a couple of months.”

Will felt anxious again, as he did every time he thought about that moment.

“She told me you’ve been visiting her. That’s very kind of you. And it’s tremendously good for her,” she told him, and he gave her a little smile.

“It’s no trouble at all. I really like visiting her, she’s a good kid.”

Alana nodded in agreement, and they both sipped from their respective glasses. Will looked at his right and saw that Hannibal had disappeared.

When everyone finished eating, Jack announced that they were free to do whatever they wanted, and there were a lot of activities for them to do: hiking, rowboats, fishing, playing several sports… Some people chose to go to their cabins to rest, other small group decided to stay in the hall finishing (or starting) their drinks, and others, mainly the people who had children, announced that they were going to play a game of football. Jack approached him when people started leaving, and asked him if he wanted to go fishing, and Will gladly accepted; it was the one thing he had been looking forward from that weekend. So he went to the cabin and changed into his old pants, a sweater and his fishing vest, and put on a beanie, since it was starting to get cold.

They went fishing with two couples and a few other people, but since the boats were for two, Jack and Will paired and rowed to the center of the lake alone. They could still hear people shouting and laughing on the compound, but Will felt immediately better the minute they were on the water. He always felt comforted whenever he went fishing, but it wasn’t even the _act_ of fishing; there was something about being there, in a river or a lake, listening to the water, just the nature and him… Even in that moment that Jack was there too, he felt more peaceful than he had felt in months.

They spent a few hours fishing and talking very little, and at the end they had to come back when the sun started to set.

“My wife is going to kill me if I’m late to our own party,” Jack said while they were getting the boat out of the water.

When they came back to the compound, Jack went on a different path and Will went to his cabin and started preparing for the party. He took another shower, because even though they hadn’t taken any of the fish, he smelled _really_ bad. Then, he went out and got dressed in his brand new suit. When he looked in the mirror, he felt weird, like he was wearing another person’s clothes, but he had to admit that it looked really good. He turned to take the shoes and found Hannibal there, looking at him with a weird expression.

“How do I look?” Will asked, raising his hands.

“You look…” Hannibal started saying, but then fell silent.

“I look ridiculous, don’t I? I should’ve bought a less formal suit…”

“You look perfect.”

Will looked at him again, and nodded, feeling himself blushing a little with the compliment. In that moment, someone knocked on the door, and he thanked the interruption. He opened the door and found Beverly on the doorstep, wearing an incredible strapless blue dress.

“Wow,” she said, looking at him smiling. “I’m sorry, is this James Bond’s cabin?” she joked, and he laughed, not making eye contact.

“You look really good, Beverly. Give me a second,” he said, pointing at his bare feet.

When he was ready, they went together to the hall. People were starting to congregate again, but this time in much more formal clothes. The decoration had completely changed and it was incredible, with lanterns, flowers and decorations of all kinds everywhere. The tables were placed on the left side of the hall, and on the right side there was an altar with folding chairs pointing at it. It looked like a wedding… because that was exactly what happened. Jack and Bella renewed their vows with a beautiful and emotional ceremony in which a lot people cried. After all, Bella was fine then… but who knew how she would be in a year, or even in a few months.

When the ceremony ended, the waiters and staff people started taking the chairs while everyone moved to the tables. Once everyone had sat down, the food started flowing from the kitchen. Hannibal appeared at some points to make remarks about some dishes, and once Will even chuckled at one of his jokes. Beverly asked him what was so funny, and he had to tell her the joke, at which she only smiled and kept eating. But apart from that little incident, Beverly and he actually talked a lot, and Will didn’t feel too uncomfortable, except when the people around them tried to make conversation by asking them about their job, or about how long had they been a couple, to which Will would lower his gaze and Beverly would laugh and clarify that they weren’t.

When the dinner finally ended after so many dishes that Will had lost count, a friend of Jack and Bella’s rose from his chair and made a speech. Some other people followed him, and it finally ended a few minutes later, when Jack himself stood up and thanked everyone for coming… and then, he announced that the _real_ party was commencing. The intensity of the lights was reduced, and then the music started to play. He hadn’t noticed, but a large cleared space acting as a dance floor was now replacing the spot where the altar had been. Everyone started getting up and followed Jack and Bella at the rhythm of the music.

Will looked at Beverly out of the corner of his eye, hoping she didn’t want to dance, but she was just observing everything while she laughed and smiled. But that didn’t last long, because after a couple of songs, a slow ballad started playing, and Beverly put a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, we _have_ to dance this one,” she said, standing up.

“What? No, no, I… I don’t dance,” he said, shaking his head.

“Will, it’s Elvis Presley. You don’t say no to Elvis.”

Will opened his mouth to refuse again, but he felt Hannibal at his side.

“Leave this to me,” he said looking at him, asking him for permission.

Will hesitated for a moment, but then nodded a little, and Hannibal smiled. He took Beverly’s hand, and she was a little surprised by his change of heart.

Will stood up and followed them until they were on the dance floor, and he stayed on a side, looking at them. Hannibal made Beverly spin a little when they found a clear space, and when she laughed, Will smiled. Then, they started to swing with the ballad. Their movements, so simple and yet so beautiful, soon hypnotized him… And then, when Beverly was with her back towards him, Hannibal looked directly at him, and Will felt as if there was nothing behind him, no floor that held him. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them he suddenly found himself in front of Hannibal, and he was moving at the rhythm of the song. He knew it was impossible, since it was Beverly who was dancing with Hannibal… Or was he dancing with her…?

But somehow, he felt Hannibal’s left hand wrapping his right, and the other above his waist, and he just stopped questioning it. Hannibal smiled then, looking right at him, and he _knew_ that he wasn’t seeing Beverly, either. Will let Hannibal guide him, and it felt like he was floating, like nothing was real… But what _was_ real, anymore? He didn’t know, and in that moment, he didn’t care. At some point, he thought he couldn’t hold Hannibal’s gaze anymore, and he looked down, overwhelmed. Hannibal pulled him closer and Will let himself fall against his shoulder. He felt the fabric of his prison uniform against his cheek and he closed his eyes. Will wrapped his hands around his neck, and he just abandoned himself to the hypnotic swinging, to the touch of Hannibal’s cheek on the back of his head, and the sensation of being just the two of them, with nobody and nothing else around them.

When the song ended, he opened his eyes and then he was with Beverly on his arms. He took a step backwards, a little uncomfortable, but she just smiled at him.

“That was great! I’ve _always_ wanted to dance that song,” she said, and they went out of the dance floor.

Will couldn’t explain what had just happened, but he decided once again not to question it. Instead, he just picked up a whisky and, when nobody was looking, he took a pill for the migraine that was starting to appear in his head.

****

When he came into the cabin, he leaned against the door, and he was tempted to let himself slip to the floor. He was really tired, and he was pretty sure that he had a low fever. Also, he was a little drunk.

The first he did, though, was go to the fireplace and start a fire with the few logs that were already inside. It was a cold night, and even though the cabin wasn’t freezing, he was still cold.

“It’s been an interesting night,” Hannibal said, appearing behind him.

Will stood up, observing the flames that were already licking the wood, and he nodded slowly without turning to him. ‘Interesting’ was a pretty accurate word to describe some of the things that had happened that night, like seeing Zeller way too drunk dancing with his tie tied around his forehead.

“Would you like to have a last drink? It’s not the same tasting it through you than taking one myself, and I would prefer not to drink alone,” he told him.

Will didn’t know exactly what he meant, but he just nodded again, still hypnotized by the fire. He took the jacket of his suit off and left it on the back of one of the armchairs while Hannibal prepared the drinks on the small kitchen of the cabin. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and then Hannibal appeared beside him, offering him a glass of whiskey.

“Thanks,” he said almost in a whisper, and for some reason, his own voice sounded strange.

They sipped from their glass, facing the fireplace and letting the flames heating them.

“I could easily add this place to my mind palace. It’s certainly beautiful and peaceful.”

“Your mind palace?” Will asked, looking at him for the first time.

The fire illuminated Hannibal, and it created dancing shadows on his face.

“The place in my mind I use to retreat. To forget… and to remember,” he said, looking at him and drinking from the glass.

“All I need for that is a stream. I put my head back, close my eyes and wade into the quiet of the stream…” he confessed.

“Like when you’re fishing,” Hannibal guessed, and he nodded a little.

Will drained his glass and left it on the coffee table between the two armchairs, behind them. He pocketed his hands and sighed, looking at the fire. Then, he remembered the dance of the party, and how he had felt… It seemed like it had happened in a dream, but at the same time he knew it had been real… Or as real as it could be having in mind that he was a hallucination. Will turned to look at Hannibal, and wondered once again _how_ could he be a product created by his mind. How could he be the one imagining everything when it felt _so_ real. Will observed his grey uniform and the way it rippled on the elbows and the waist. He then looked at his face, at the line of his jaw and the stubble that covered it. He looked too at his sharp cheekbones, at the locks of hair that fell over his forehead, and he looked too at the way he opened his lips only a little to sip the whiskey, and the movement his Adam’s apple made when he swallowed. He remembered when he had touched him for the first time in his kitchen, and then he wondered how it would feel to kiss him, to feel him with his lips.

Will could’ve blamed the alcohol, or the slight fever, but in the end, when he moved, he did it because he needed to know, he _wanted_ to know.

He moved a little to face him and raised his right hand. Hannibal turned to look at him, but he didn’t move nor said anything when Will touched his cheek and made him turn a little more to his direction. Will leaned slowly towards him, and in that moment he felt his heart beating faster than it had ever beaten, but he didn’t stop, not when he was so close. Will closed his eyes before touching Hannibal’s lips with his… And he _felt_ them. It was just a light brush, lips against lips, but he felt for the second time that night like the floor beneath him had disappeared, and the only thing holding him was Hannibal and the skin he was touching with his hands and his lips.

When Will leaned back, he opened his eyes slowly and he felt a little dizzy, but he still tried to focus Hannibal’s face, which was so close. He didn’t remove his hand from his cheek or moved away immediately. Instead, he licked his lips lethargically, and he tasted the whiskey again on his tongue, like he had just sipped it. Hannibal was looking at him intensely and Will held his gaze, but neither of them moved nor said anything. He could feel Hannibal’s skin beneath his fingertips, and when it started to feel like it was burning, he finally let his fingers slowly slide. The moment the contact was broken and he could no longer feel him, he suddenly felt his own fatigue and headache hitting him like a wave.

He turned around and went to the bathroom, where he took two aspirins. Then, he stripped out of his clothes and threw them on top of the suitcase when he went back to the main room. He suddenly had no strength to do anything else, so he didn’t even bother to put on a t-shirt and he just slipped under the sheets, feeling Hannibal’s gaze fixed on him the entire time.

Will felt asleep too quickly, and that night, he didn’t have any dreams.

_When Will fell asleep, Hannibal took the two glasses to the kitchen, and then he went to one of the armchairs and sit there, looking at him from time to time. He hadn’t expected Will to do what he had just done. In that moment he realized that, even if they shared that strong connection, he could never entirely predict him. And that confused and delighted him equally._

_There was something that troubled him, and that was that he was starting to feel things he had never felt, not that strongly. That night, he had felt more confused than in his whole life, and he wasn’t used to that. He usually did things with a purpose, or to see what would happen, and he could predict or be surprised by the outcome. But nothing had caused him that confusion before._

_Still, there was something that, after what had happened that night, he knew with certainty; the time of playing along with Will’s idea of him being a hallucination had come to an end. Even if that jeopardized all his other plans, it was time for Will to accept that everything that was happening to him was real…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really reaaaally want to thank you all for your kind comments, kudos or simply for reading. THANKS♥
> 
>  
> 
> Songs! In this chapter, the song they dance to!
> 
> · [Can't help falling in love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5V430M59Yn8), Elvis Presley
> 
>  
> 
> On the playlist:
> 
> · [No light, no light](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGH-4jQZRcc), Florence + the Machine
> 
>  
> 
> Aaand I think that's it!


	9. Nine

When Will woke up, he immediately knew that he was alone on the bed. He opened his eyes and looked at his right side, where he was getting used to find Hannibal, but the space was empty. He got up with difficulty and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

The day before he had stayed on the cabins compound until lunch, but he had refused to stay longer when Jack had insisted. He told him that he had to start grading his students’ papers and exams, and it wasn’t a lie, but the truth was that he had had enough socializing for weeks. When he finally arrived to Wolf Trap, the dogs greeted him with enthusiasm, and he then noticed that Hannibal hadn’t appeared that day at all. Will began wondering if he was mad about the kiss, but he didn’t have a way of knowing it…

That’s why, when he went out of the bathroom that morning and saw Hannibal on the kitchen, he let out a long breath he didn’t know he had been holding. In that moment, he wondered when his life had become a constant rotation around his hallucination.

“Morning,” Will told him trying to sound casual, and he went to the cupboards to take the mugs, plates and everything they would need.

“Morning.”

He set the table while Hannibal cooked, and then he sat, waiting for him. Will observed him while he finished, and he tried to discern something through his movements, but he didn’t figure anything out. He finally went to the table with pancakes and several things to accompany them, and they began eating in silence. Will looked at him from the corner of his eye, and noticed that Hannibal’s mind seemed to be on another place.

“Is everything okay?” he finally asked, giving up at trying to read him.

Hannibal raised his gaze from his pancakes and stared at him before he swallowed. Then, he calmly took his coffee and sipped from it.

“I think we need to talk,” he finally said.

“Is my hallucination breaking up with me?” Will joked, but he automatically remembered the kiss and regretted it, so he cleared his throat.

Hannibal left his mug on the table, serious.

“Do you really believe that?” he asked then, and Will frowned a little.

“Believe what?”

“That I’m a hallucination,” he explained, and he looked at him in the eyes. “That I’m just a creation of your mind.”

Will observed him for a moment, and then he barked a laugh.

“What, you’re not going to try to convince me that you’re real, are you?”

“Maybe it’s time for you to accept the reality.”

He smiled sarcastically and stood up, taking his half eaten pancakes and his mug to the kitchen, where he left them on the counter. He suddenly had no appetite. He heard Hannibal getting up and walking towards him.

“Will, listen to-“

“No.”

Will grabbed the counter with both hands, feeling the anger boiling up inside him.

“Don’t _ever_ say that again. I don’t fucking understand how _this_ is possible, or how it works, but I still _know_ that it’s not real,” he said, grunting the last words.

Will had thought about that several times, and one of his worst fears was to get so lost in his mind that he would stop distinguishing between the real and the unreal. He still was able to do it, but he couldn’t know for how long, and the fact that his hallucination wanted to convince him of the contrary terrified him.

When he finally calmed down a little, he moved away from the counter. Hannibal was standing beside him and he held his gaze for a second before turning around and going to the bathroom to take an aspirin.

****

Since the classes at university had ended because of the Christmas holidays, he spent the day grading the papers he had asked his students to do a few weeks back. He had expected Hannibal to disappear after their discussion, but instead, almost like he wanted to prove a point, he spent most of the day with him. He went with him when he walked the dogs, he sat on the couch reading a book while he worked, and he spent most of the afternoon there, too.

That night, when he went to sleep, he had a nightmare that he had already had a few times the previous week, in which he murdered another person. He was waiting for him in his car when the man came in, and he slit his throat without hesitation, not even waiting for the man to acknowledge his presence. He woke up when, in the dream, he took his hand to his mouth and licked some of the blood. He sat up, gasping and shaking, and he waited until he was almost certain that he wasn’t going to faint if he stood up. When he did, he changed his shirt, throwing the soaked one on the floor, and went back to the bed to find that Hannibal was there. He was resting his weight on an elbow, looking at him as if he was making sure that everything was okay. Will got under the sheets and sighed, feeling the last remnants of the nightmare slipping out of his mind.

Hannibal finally lay down after a few seconds, and rested his head on the pillow. Will knew he was staring at him, but he stayed face up, looking at his ceiling in the dark… until he heard Hannibal’s breathing grow heavier and the curve of the mattress loosening. Only then he rolled over his side to face him, and he observed him, illuminated by the moonlight. His face was peaceful and relaxed, in contrast to how he had been all day after the discussion. His hair was falling over his forehead and the pillow, and Will raised a hand to stroke it, but stopped himself, hesitant. He let his mind wander for a moment on the possibility of him being real, on what that would imply. It would mean that everything they had shared during those months was real. That he was sharing his life with a man, with a serial killer, with _Hannibal Lecter_. But despite having that in mind, during the second he let himself think that, he actually wished it would be true, so he squeezed his eyes shut, erasing that thought from his mind.

When he opened his eyes, he looked at Hannibal again. In that moment, he wanted to touch him more than anything; to _feel_ the way he felt when they were in contact... But he refused the idea. He fisted the sheets instead, and stayed face to face with him, until he fell slowly asleep.

****

_When Hannibal woke up that morning, he focused on Will’s house as usual. He found him still asleep on his bed, and he completely understood it, considering that a nightmare had woken him up in the middle of the night. So he went to the kitchen and started taking everything out of the cupboards as quietly as he could… But suddenly, the sound of a door opening distracted him, and he found himself back in Baltimore._

_“Good morning!” Chilton greeted him, and his stomach turned upside down with disgust. If he was cheerful, he wasn’t going to like what he was going to say. “The day has come again. Cleaning day!”_

_Hannibal stood up from the stool and closed his eyes for a second, tilting his head a little. That man required a lot more patience than he was used to have… And he was a_ very _patient man._

_When he was handcuffed to the glass holes and the staff started entering his room, he saw out of the corner of his eye Chilton poking around everything, as usual. He took the books he had by the bed and opened them. Then, he went to the drawings on the table and he started picking them up, touching them carelessly. Hannibal felt the familiar rage surging inside him, but he maintained his expression._

_“You know, it’s so unfair that you have so much talent. Such a waste…” Chilton said, approaching him and appearing on his visual field. “Who are they?” he asked, pointing at the drawing he had on his hands. In it, a man was lying on a bed while another was leaning over him; they were Achilles and Patroclus._

_He looked at his fingers, touching the drawing with no care at all... And then something occurred to him; he had the perfect opportunity, right before him. It would be a sloppy job, since he hadn’t planned it, but he didn’t know when another opportunity would present itself… so he decided that it would have to do._

_“You’re going to have to bend it a little bit,” he said, pretending like he couldn’t see the drawing well._

_Chilton readjusted the paper in his hands, and when he did so, he also moved his body a bit towards him… exactly as he needed. Hannibal made a sudden movement and kicked Chilton as hard as he could with his left knee, throwing the man against the glass. As soon as he did this, he threw himself at him as much as the handcuffs allowed him, and he hit Chilton’s chest with his shoulder, trapping him between his body and the glass. His plan was to held him and attack with what he could, most probably his teeth, but before he could make any other movements, the guard that was standing outside the glass pulled out from his handcuffs and smashed_ him _against the glass. Chilton fell on the floor, free from him, and started crawling away, terrified. Another guard approached him from behind, and he felt a puncture on his neck._

_He yanked as strongly as he could, freeing himself from the guard that was grabbing him from the outside and hitting the other one with the back of his head. In that moment, he started losing his strength. He tried to resist the effect of the sedative, but he felt his legs failing him. The guards recovered themselves and immobilized him again, but that time he couldn’t resist, because he was falling into the embrace of darkness._

_When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was his ceiling, so he knew he was lying down on his bed. He tried to sit up, but he found that he couldn’t raise his hands… or his legs. In fact, he couldn’t move at_ all _. He felt then the straps tightly tied around his ankles, wrists, legs and chest, holding him against the bed. He was wearing the mask on his face, so when grunted with the effort of trying to move, it sounded even more guttural._

_“I hope you’re comfortable, because you’re facing twenty-four hours in that position.”_

_He raised his head a little to look at Chilton, who was on the other side of the glass with a few guards waiting outside the room. He looked_ very _angry, and Hannibal hoped he had caused him a little harm, at least. He had entirely missed his objective, which had been to hurt him so he could show Will that he wasn’t a hallucination at all... But at least, he had given Chilton a scare._

 _“Good day,_ Doctor _,” Chilton spit._

_When everyone left the room, he tried to move his hands a little, but it was impossible. The straps were sinking on his skin so tight that he was sure Chilton had made the nurses tighten them more than it was permitted._

_He thought that spending twenty-four hours in that position would be a bit inconvenient… but he wasn’t going to stay there, of course. Hannibal tried to focus on Will, but he found that it was more difficult than usual, since the sedative was still taking effect. He grunted and let his head fall back on the pillow. He tried again, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Will’s living room for a second, but he couldn’t keep it for too long, and it vanished around him. He then saw a blur out of the corner of his eye and he turned to find the little dog named Buster walking to him. He frowned and saw again Will’s living room only for a second… but the dog was a much more clear image. Buster stopped beside his bed and then he put his front legs on top of the bed and whined. He approached Hannibal’s hand and licked his fingers. That cleared his mind a bit, and he blinked a couple of times, being able to think much better. He focused again on Will and finally the Hospital disappeared around him and he found himself on the living room. He felt relieved when he saw that the straps and the mask hadn’t followed him there._

_“Well, look who’s here,” Will said. He was sitting at the dining table with papers from the university scattered across it. “What happened this morning?”_

_“What do you mean?” he asked, fearing that he had seen something._

_He sat on his couch, looking at the clock on the bookshelves and checking that it was almost lunchtime. Buster approached him again, and Hannibal smiled a little. He took the dog, put it on his lap and left his hand on his back, even though he wasn’t entirely sure if dogs liked that._

_“When I woke up there were a lot of things out of the cupboards, but you were gone.”_

_He remembered then that he had started preparing breakfast, but he had left everything halfway due to the interruption._

_“Yes… Something came up.”_

_Will just shook his head at his vague explanation, but in that moment he seemed to notice the dog on top of him._

_“Did he get up on his own?” he asked him._

_Hannibal shrugged a little, so Will furrowed his brow and finally returned to his papers._

_He spent the day trying to stay with Will so he didn’t have to come back to the reality of his room, and he managed it almost completely. To stay there he had to focus, and it wasn’t easy to maintain his concentration during that much time, especially if when he felt himself beginning to return to Baltimore, he would feel the straps around his ankles and wrists hurting him. So he touched the dog the moments he felt like he was slipping, and that helped him stay there. He only lost his focus and went back to his body once, and he came back to Will as soon as he could regain his concentration._

_“You have been here_ all _day, haven’t you?” Will asked him all of the sudden while they were having dinner._

_Hannibal paused a moment with the glass of wine on his lips, and then he sipped from it._

_“Yes, I believe I have.”_

_“You usually disappear at some points during the day,” he said, but he seemed to be thinking out loud, because he wasn’t looking at him. “Maybe this is the final stage before losing my mind completely; seeing my hallucination twenty-four hours a day.”_

_“Or maybe our connection is getting stronger,” he said, direct._

_Will looked at him for a moment, and then he continued cutting the piece of meat on his plate. Hannibal sighed; clearly that wouldn’t be the way of convincing him._

_When they finished, they moved to the couches with a whisky replacing the wine. Hannibal turned the TV on and looked for something that could help him take his mind off a little, and Will took a book from his stacks. But after a while, he started feeling the straps sinking into his skin, and he squeezed the remote control without being able to help it. He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw and felt his heart going faster. He had to endure it, because he couldn’t go back to his body, to the restraint, not yet…_

_“Hannibal?” he heard Will’s voice echoing like he was far away from him. “Is everything okay?”_

_In that moment, something touched his shoulder and his concentration was broken. He opened his eyes and he found himself back on his room in Baltimore… with Will beside him. He looked at him with his eyes widened, probably of confusion, and he took a step backwards. Hannibal looked away from him and fixed his gaze on he wall, swallowing hard and trying to move his hands a little, because the wounds were starting to bother him._

_“What… What did they do to you…?” Will asked in a whisper._

_He let his mind reach Will’s, and felt his astonishing empathy flowing through him, making him_ feel _Hannibal’s rage and indignity. He finally looked at him, and he focused… They appeared in his living room again, seated in their respective seats as if nothing had happened. Will was looking at him, probably waiting for an explanation, so he shrugged a little._

_“I was trying to do something and it went wrong,” Hannibal said, as if that would be a valid explanation._

_Will stood up and went towards him, grabbed his right hand without asking for permission and then he rolled the sleeves with a pull, exposing the wounds on his wrist. Hannibal touched Will’s hand carefully, looking at him in the eyes._

_“It’s nothing.”_

_“It’s_ not _nothing!” he said, raising his voice and stepping backwards. “You’ve been like this all day, you could’ve told me.”_

_Will went to his bedroom without waiting for a response, and Hannibal sighed, believing that he was mad at him again and he had gone to lock himself on his bedroom. But he came back a few seconds later, and he was carrying a first-aid kit. He left it on the wooden table, and he knelt on the rug, in front of him._

_“Will, come on…”_

_“Don’t,” he said, anticipating what he was going to say._

_So Hannibal fell silent, and observed him while he took out the alcohol, gauze and everything else he would need._

_“Roll them up,” he said to him, nodding towards the cuffs of the uniform’s legs._

_He did as he told him and he rolled the uniform up so the ankles would be exposed. When the gauze soaked in alcohol touched the scraped skin, he closed his eyes for a second, but he didn’t move at all. Will cleaned the wounds with care, dabbing them and pressing the gauze very lightly. Hannibal observed Will’s head and the movement of his curls while he moved, concentrated on the task, and he wondered how it would feel to extend his hand and ran his fingers through his hair. When Will finished cleaning the wounds, he put an adhesive bandage on each leg, and only then he raised his gaze._

_“Okay, the wrists now.”_

_“Will, I’m not sure that this is going to have any effect on my body,” he said, but he rolled his sleeves up anyway._

_Will took his hand even more carefully than he had touched his ankles, and rolled it so it was facing up. Hannibal thought that Will wasn’t going to answer to him, since he seemed really focused on the task._

_“Well, it’s comforting, isn’t it?”_

_“Comforting for me, or for you?” he asked._

_Will paused a moment and looked at him._

_“Maybe for both of us,” he answered, and he focused back on the wound._

_When he put the adhesive bandages on the wrists too, Hannibal touched one of them with a finger._

_“I’m pretty sure that these are going to disappear the moment I go back to my room.”_

_“Then don’t go back.”_

_Hannibal smiled a little without looking at him._

_“It’s a little difficult to focus for too long. I start losing my concentration sooner or later.”_

_“Focus on me, then.”_

_Hannibal looked at him, because he hadn’t expected him to say that. Will had already gathered up everything and put it away in the first-aid kit, but he was still kneeling in front of him._

_“Would you like it if I disappeared?” he asked him then, not being able to avoid it. He had been struggling with himself not to ask him that question for too long._

_“What do you mean?” Will asked, furrowing his brow a little._

_“If I stopped coming, if I just… disappeared. Would you?”_

_Will looked down for a moment, in which it seemed like he was considering his answer. When he raised his gaze again, he looked…_ tired _._

_“If you disappeared… that would mean that I’m not having hallucinations. It would mean… that maybe I’m getting better,” he said, looking at him in the eyes._

_“That’s not what I asked you,” Hannibal said in a low voice._

_Will smiled a little._

_“I know.”_

_Hannibal reached Will’s mind and felt the maze that his thoughts were, tangled up on each other and clouded by the fever and the encephalitis. He leaned forward on the couch and touched Will’s cheek with one hand, caressing his hair with the movement. Will closed his eyes the second he felt the touch, and Hannibal felt both of their hearts going faster. He bent down until his forehead touched Will’s a little, but then he stopped. He couldn’t kiss him, not like that. He couldn’t be the one initiating the contact while Will was still convinced that he was not real, even though in that moment there was nothing he wanted to do more. So he stayed like that for a few more seconds, touching his forehead, caressing his cheek, listening to Will’s breathing and heartbeat… and then he leaned backwards, breaking the contact._

_Will opened his eyes slowly, breathing through his mouth and giving him a lethargic look… In that moment, he looked more exhausted than he had ever been, but he also saw something in his eyes, a spark that reminded him of a few nights back, when they had been on the cabins… And suddenly, he moved, catching him completely off guard. Will stood up on his knees and grabbed his uniform’s lapels, pulling towards him. And before he could process what was happening, he felt the kiss. Will smashed his lips against his with too much force at the beginning and Hannibal stayed still, but when he felt Will opening his lips a little, he lost it. Hannibal wrapped Will’s body with his arms and pulled him even closer than he already was, opening his lips too and welcoming Will’s tongue._

_It was nothing like the inquisitive kiss on the cabin. There was hunger, necessity and urgency on that kiss, and Hannibal corresponded it with every fiber of his body._

_Will kissed him with desperation, but when the kiss was deepening he paused a little, and they began the dance again. He felt Will’s hands moving to his back, grasping his uniform, and Hannibal abandoned his lips for a moment, kissing his jaw and his neck; he wished to be able to cover his entire skin with his lips, with his tongue, with his hands… Will moaned in response, and he felt the arousal of both of them._

_And then Will pulled backwards, ending it as abruptly as it had started, and he loosened his embrace to let him move back. They looked at each other, their breathings blending on the now infinite space between them, and Hannibal alternated his gaze from his lips, that were red from the friction, to his eyes, in which he could still see his hunger. Finally, he swallowed and leaned slowly backwards, letting Will go._

_Will stood up taking the first-aid kit and Hannibal composed himself, straightening his uniform. He leaned backwards on the couch and touched his lips with a finger, not entirely believing what had just happened… and the amount of feelings that were battling inside him._

_“Coffee?” Will asked him then from the kitchen._

_Hannibal turned to look at him and frowned, partly at the proposition but also because Will looked very calm._

_“At this hour?”_

_“If you can’t to go back to your…_ body _,” he said, and Hannibal caught the difference on the tone of his voice, “we’re going to have to stay awake.”_

_They looked at each other for a moment, and then he nodded. Will started preparing coffee, and he felt his heart still trying to calm…_

_****_

_They stayed up for several hours that night. They tried watching an awfully bad movie, but it made them sleepy, so they ended up giving up. They decided to talk instead, and Hannibal asked Will about some of his cases, his dogs, the place where he used to live before moving to Wolf Trap… But neither of them mentioned the kiss, acting as if it had never happened._

_At some point, Will started yawning, so he reached his mind and saw how exhausted he was. He convinced him to move to the bed, even though Will tried to protest. When they did, Will told him that they were going to keep talking, and Hannibal agreed, even though he knew that he would fall asleep soon._

_“How much are they going to keep you like that?” Will asked, and he yawned again._

_He was lying down in bed, with a hand over his head on the pillow and covered with the sheets up to the waist._

_“Until tomorrow morning. Chilton would gladly extend it a few more hours, but he legally can’t keep me like that more than a day.”_

_“That bastard…” Will said, but his voice sounded sleepy, so Hannibal smiled._

_“Go to sleep already, Will. It’s okay,” he assured him for the fifteenth time that night._

_“No, I told you… I’m going to stay up.”_

_Will rolled over to his right side while he said that, facing him, and his eyes closed slowly. Hannibal observed him for a few seconds, and then his breathing started to sound heavier, which meant that he had fallen asleep. He turned off the bedroom’s lights and covered him with the sheets better so he wouldn’t be cold. Then, he lay down on the mattress, facing the ceiling. He would try to stay up as long as he could, but he knew that, sooner or later, he would fall asleep too, defeated by the fatigue of having been focusing all day._

_The mattress trembled a little, and he saw Will adjusting his position. He rolled over a little and then his head fell over Hannibal’s shoulder. He felt his heart racing on his chest at the touch, but stayed completely still, afraid of moving and waking him up. After a few seconds, when Hannibal was sure that he was still asleep, he let his head fall slowly over Will’s, and he inhaled his scent. In that moment, he knew that he would_ never _get used to the impossible feelings that man and their connection awoke in him._

****

_When the nurses and guards went into his room that morning, they found him half asleep. But before he could completely wake up, a nurse stuck a needle on his arm and he slipped into the unconsciousness once more._

_He woke up again on his bed, but that time the straps were gone. When he sat up, feeling a headache throbbing in his head, he saw Chilton behind the glass._

_“Did you have a good day? I bet you did,” he said before he could even consider if he wanted to answer his question or not. “I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen now. You are going to be answering interviews, making tests and just doing everything that I know you love to do_ every day _. And we’re beginning tomorrow. So make the most of your day, read some of your books… oh, wait. You can’t.”_

_Hannibal looked around him and saw that, indeed, there weren’t any books on his bookshelves. His drawings, the table and the stool were also gone, once again. They had given his things back to him not long ago after the last incident with Frederick Chilton, but it looked like he was going to have to face another period of time without them._

_“See you tomorrow,” Chilton told him before turning around and going out._

_A nurse left on the tray his breakfast or lunch, he wasn’t completely sure. When finally everyone left, he just closed his eyes and wandered to Will. He found him sitting at the table eating, and he confirmed that it was lunchtime._

_“Hey,” Will greeted him, leaving his fork on the plate._

_Hannibal sat across from him, and leaned back on the chair._

_“Did they… free you?” he asked him, and Hannibal nodded. “Good. Do you want to eat? I’ve prepared enough for two,” Will said, nodding to what looked like mac and cheese._

_“No, thanks. I’m not really hungry,” he said, and he wondered if Will had cooked for him too, or if he had just made too much food._

_“That’s new,” he said, and Hannibal smiled a little._

_Will continued eating, looking at him from time to time. When he finished, he went to the kitchen._

_“Did you… did you come by this morning? I mean, did we ate breakfast together or something?” Will asked while he was loading up the dishwasher._

_Hannibal frowned, and turned around in his seat to look at him._

_“You had another blackout?” Will pressed his lips together, and then nodded. “How long?”_

_“I’m not sure… About two, three hours?” he said, running a hand through his hair, disheveling it. “I don’t remember waking up.”_

_Hannibal considered for a second telling him about his illness. But telling him in that moment implied that he would not be able to do what he had planned in order to convince him that he was real… So he just went to him and made him repeat his name, date and the place where he was, in order to know that there weren’t major brain injuries._

_“Did you take a pill?” he asked him, touching his forehead to feel his temperature._

_“Get some rest today. No university papers, no cases, okay?”_

_Will nodded, but Hannibal could feel his anxiety through their connection, and it made him feel uneasy._

****

After taking a whole day off, the following day Will decided that he had to catch up with work. He poured himself a glass of whisky and sat before a stack of exams. He started reading, concentrating on them as he was supposed to, but halfway through it, a song that started playing distracted him.

_I hear a train a’coming_

_It's rolling round the bend_

Will smiled, because that song was one of his favorites, for some reason. The second it started, he was just captured by it.

“ _When I was just a baby my mama told me son, always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns_ ,” he started singing in a low voice while he tapped with the pen at the rhythm of the music.

_Hannibal changed his posture on the chair of Chilton’s office, but the straitjacket made it impossible for him to be anything near comfortable._

_“You are not eating properly, you’re not behaving, the nurses say that some days you barely move from your bed… And now this weak attempt to attack the personnel,” Alana Bloom was listing, sitting behind the desk in front of him._

_“I don’t think that was exactly a weak attempt, but…” Chilton mumbled, standing behind her, but Alana ignored him._

_“You are a sadistic son of a bitch, Hannibal, but you have never been this irrational and senseless.”_

_She looked at him and he smiled, even though she couldn’t see it behind the mask._

_“They already took your books and paintings. Keep that up and you’ll say goodbye to all your privileges. Who knows, maybe you’ll even end up with the rest of the inmates. I’m sure they’ll treat you better than we do.”_

_She stood up, gathering what he had guessed were the nurses and guards reports about him. Chilton occupied his seat, and he crossed his arms on top of the table. In that moment, he started talking and Hannibal stopped paying attention, because he suddenly could hear music: a song that started sounding very low, but he could hear it more and more clearly…_

_“_ Always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns _,” he said without realizing it._

_“I’m sorry, what?” Chilton asked, leaning a little forward. “Is he even listening to me?” he asked Alana._

_“_ But I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die… _” he sang, and he heard then Will’s voice singing with him, probably not being conscious about it._

_Chilton raised both hands and smiled._

_“Is that a confession, Doctor Lecter?” he asked, cheerful._

_“That’s a Johnny Cash song, Frederick,” Alana told him, and her voice sounded tired. “I think I’m going to go, you seem to have everything under control.”_

_Hannibal smiled again, because Chilton was now looking at him with a grimace on his face. Alana went out of the room, walking by the two guards that were standing by the door… And Will. He was in the room, looking at him with a confused expression._

_“…not going to say it twice,” Chilton was saying, so Hannibal turned to him again. “Now, I think it would be interesting if we talked about your childhood.”_

_Hannibal immediately felt irritated. Frederick Chilton had tried, along with_ many _other specialists, to discover more about his past. But he had never given them anything that they didn’t already know._

 _“Let’s make a deal. I will…_ forgive _you about our little incident if you tell me something. Maybe about your sister? The relationship you had with her? I’ll even give you your books back...”_

_Chilton interlaced his hands on top of the desk, and Hannibal sighed, closed his eyes… And he travelled to a place deep inside his mind._

_He opened his eyes and everything he saw was pure bright light. He was sitting on the ground, playing, because he was a child again. A little girl with hair so blonde that it almost looked white was digging on the dirt next to him, happy to be able to get her hands dirty. Hannibal smiled, and he felt his heart enlarging inside his chest at the sight of her smile and the sound of her laugh._

_In that moment, he sensed someone behind him, another presence, and it bothered him a little. That place was only his, it had always been, and now there was someone else there…_

_In that moment, the setting changed and the light dimmed. He stood up, already feeling unsettled, because he knew what he was going to see now. He always knew, and he never could change it, as many times as he tried to. He saw the men taking the girl, and he saw another version of him trying to protest, to stop them and fight them… But they were adults and he was just a little boy. The men made him sit again, and the girl screamed his name, crying, trying to go to him…_

_“Mischa!!” the other Hannibal screamed, and he fisted his hands._

_He lowered his gaze, knowing what would happen next, and he sensed the other presence beside him again, so he looked at him. A younger child than him was standing there, and he knew who he was, so he focused on his face instead of what was happening in front of them._

_When the image changed and the other_ understood what the men were going to do _, Will looked away quickly, his breath caught in his throat, shaking a little and with a tear rolling down his cheek. Will then approached him and held his hand, interlacing their fingers. Hannibal immediately felt their feelings, blended into each other. Will’s empathy amplified everything, and he felt his own pain like a blow, as if he had just lost Mischa again._

_“LECTER!”_

_He opened his eyes back in Baltimore, and saw Chilton looking at him with a confused expression. He swallowed and blinked, trying to pull himself together. He hadn’t dropped any tears, but he had been close._

_“Are you back on planet earth?” the other asked him, leaning back on the chair._

_Hannibal didn’t answer; instead, he looked around him… But Will wasn’t there anymore._

****

_That afternoon, once he was back in his room after the long and tedious session with Chilton, he focused on Will and appeared on his living room. He had expected him to be lost in his university papers and exams, but he was actually lying down over his side on the rug with a motorboat. He had moved the wooden table to have more space, and a couple of dogs were sitting next to him._

_Will looked at him for a moment, and then he resumed what he was doing, so Hannibal just sat on his couch to look at him. He guessed that fixing motorboats was something of a hobby to him, something he knew how to do since he was a kid, and something that reminded him of his father. Hannibal extended his mind towards him, and felt the calm inside Will beneath the now ever-present fever. He sighed, relaxing for the first time that day, leaned back and just observed him._

_After what could’ve been like an hour, Will left his tools on the floor and sit up, rubbing his neck._

_“Is it fixed?” Hannibal asked him while he was getting up._

_“I think so… But it’s not like I’m going to try it soon, anyway.”_

_“You have a boat, don’t you?” he asked, because he had seen something in Will’s clouded thoughts._

_“I do. But I haven’t sailed in such a long time… And I don’t think I’ll be able to do it anytime soon,” he said, and Hannibal caught the sad tone on his voice._

_Will took the motorboat to the little cabin outside the house, along with all his tools. After that, he tidied the living room up and then took a shower. When he went back to the room, he had changed into a grey jumper that was probably a size too big, but Hannibal found it strangely appealing._

_He sat on the couch in front of him, and looked at the TV, since Hannibal had turned it on while he was on the shower._

_“I’m sorry that I saw that, on your… mind palace. That was a private memory,” Will finally told him after a few minutes of looking at him out of the corner of his eye._

_“It’s okay. I’m actually glad you were there,” he told him, and he meant it. It had bothered him in the beginning, but he was pleased that Will had seen it._

_Will nodded, and then paused for a moment… He knew there was something else he wanted to say, but Hannibal didn’t rush him._

_“Is that… Is that what happened to you?” Will asked him, looking at him in the eyes. “Is that why you… are what you are?”_

_“Nothing happened to me. I happened,” he answered after a pause._

_He thought that maybe that confession would scare him, but he wasn’t going to lie to him about that._

_“Good,” Will said, to his surprise. “I would be a little disappointed if you were an enigma that easy to decipher.”_

_Hannibal smiled, feeling proud with his answer._

_“The girl…” Will continued saying after a few seconds. “She was your sister, right?” he asked, and Hannibal sighed, feeling his smile fading a little. “I’m sorry, I… You probably don’t want to talk about it, I don’t know why I asked. Sorry…”_

_“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” he said, telling the truth._

_He had never talked about Mischa with another person, but he realized that he wanted to do it with Will. The other probably knew the answer anyway because of what he had seen on his mind palace, but somehow, it was like they both needed to say it out loud._

_“Yes, she was my sister,” he told him. “She was a bright and happy child, always laughing…”_

_“You loved her very much.” Will said, and it wasn’t a question. Hannibal tilted his head a little._

_“They say that it’s not love. That I can’t feel love,” he said, referring to the people who had tried to profile him through the years._

_Will leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his thighs._

_“It felt like love to me…”_

_Hannibal thought of a million things to answer to him, but he didn’t say any of them. They looked at each other and fell silent for a long time, with the television forgotten in the background._

****

_The next day, he expected Chilton go to his room to keep bothering him, so he didn’t go to Will in the morning, but nobody except the nurses went by. At lunchtime, he stopped waiting for someone to show up and he focused on Will. He found him buried in papers… and fever. Hannibal had noticed a minor discomfort when he had woken up, and he had guessed that Will was having one of his strong headaches, but when he appeared, he went straight towards him and touched his forehead; the fever was pretty high._

_“Do you feel like eating chicken soup?” he asked him, going to the kitchen._

_“I’m going to start loathing chicken soup if you make it every time I get sick…”_

_Hannibal paused with the pot in his hands._

_“Any suggestions, then?”_

_Will leaned back on the couch and sighed, rubbing his temples._

_“No…”_

_“Chicken soup it is,” Hannibal said, resuming what he was doing. “Don’t worry, I will make more diverse meals once you get better.”_

_“If ever…” he whispered in a sad tone._

_That afternoon, the fever kept getting higher, so Will stayed mostly on the couch, watching TV or taking short naps. Hannibal stayed with him, but that time he didn’t make him take any pills… He needed Will to be febrile._

_When it was almost nightfall, Will woke up startled, like he had just realized he had fallen asleep._

_“What time is it?” he asked, sitting up a little._

_“It’s half past six.”_

_He grunted, and ran a hand through his face. Then, he noticed what Hannibal had on his hands; one of the reports that he had been looking over that morning._

_“Is it an interesting reading?”_

_“It’s certainly better than no reading at all,” Hannibal said, smiling a little. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but he didn’t tell him the whole truth._

_Will frowned a bit._

_“What about all your books?”_

_“They took them away,” he answered simply, and then he looked at Will, who seemed to be waiting for a more elaborate explanation. “It’s part of my punishment.”_

_Will leaned back on the couch again, so he returned to reading the report of the unclosed case._

_“Hannibal…” Will called him, so he looked at him again. “You know that you can take my books, right?”_

_He had supposed that Will wouldn’t mind if he took a book from his bookshelves, but for some reason, he had never done it, as if he was going to invade something private... As if they weren’t already sharing_ everything _._

 _“Thank you, Will. But now I_ must _know how this one ends,” he half joked, referring to the report, and Will laughed._

_The truth was, he knew exactly the ending he wanted the report to have._

****

 _That night, he had to help Will go to bed, since the fever was starting to make him hallucinate with ‘_ a stag covered in feathers _’, according to him. He was tempted to get in his body and go out that very night, but he managed to control himself. He couldn’t put everything at risk for being too impatient, as he had been with Chilton. Not when he was so close… So that night he stayed with Will and stabilized the fever, giving him only one pill when he sensed that it was rising too much._

_The next day he had to leave him when Chilton insisted on doing several boring and useless tests, that he completed as quickly as he could, answering them in a way he knew Chilton wouldn’t notice if they were real or fake answers. When they finally left him alone, he came back and continued watching over him._

_And finally, the night came. Hannibal went to Will’s bathroom to take the sleeping pills, but then he changed his mind. Will was too feverish to regain consciousness, but if he did, that time wouldn’t be so inconvenient. So he went outside and started preparing everything; the case’s report, the clothes he would make Will wear, the tools and weapons he would need… And at last, he sat on the edge of the bed. Will was mumbling something in his sleep, his breathing accelerated because of a nightmare. Hannibal brushed a curl from his forehead and let his fingers linger for a second on his skin, and Will immediately calmed down under his touch._

_Once he made sure he wasn’t going to wake up, he went into Will’s body. He got him dressed, took everything he needed, and went out of the house under the dogs’ watchful eye. He drove up to a small town outside Baltimore, where the only suspect from the old case lived. It was an old case, from a few years before Will retired, so he had had to check the man’s current address. When he arrived, he parked in front of the house and, since there weren’t signs of anybody being inside, he waited. Will was on the passenger seat, moving and shaking from time to time. Hannibal extended his hand and grazed his cheek._

_“Don’t worry, Will. We’re almost done.”_

_When a car finally appeared at the end of the street, he tried to hide a little lowering his head, but he soon realized that it wasn’t necessary; when he parked with a sudden brake, the man that went out of the car was so drunk he wouldn’t have seen him even if he was wearing Christmas lights around his body._

_Hannibal stepped out too and followed the man quietly. He was zigzagging and dropped his car keys, so it wasn’t long until Hannibal reached him. He looked once again to both sides, but the street was deserted, so he didn’t wait anymore. He grabbed the man covering his mouth with a rag and dragged him behind the house without much problem. When he choked him and the man stopped moving, he looked up and saw Will. His eyes were half open, but he doubted he understood what was happening with the fever._

_“Shhh…” he said, putting his index finger on top of his lips._

_That time, he didn’t make the body disappear. Instead, he left it in plain sight, visible enough so whoever who would pass by that street could see that there was something on the field behind the house._

****

When Will woke up, he didn’t do it jumping out of bed and gasping, like he usually did. He just opened his eyes and looked around, but he immediately knew that something was wrong. And then, while he was sitting up, he remembered the nightmare he had had; in it, he killed another man, dragging him behind a house and choking him to death... And he had seen Hannibal doing the killing again, looking at him under the moonlight.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake the last remnants of the fever and the feeling the nightmare had left him, since it had been one of the most lucid ones so far… Will stood up from the bed and he was walking towards the bathroom when his phone started ringing.

“Will, we’ve got a case. I’ll send you the address,” Jack told him when he picked up.

“Eh… Sure. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said, still disoriented.

He hanged up the phone and went to the bathroom to take a shower. That morning Hannibal didn’t show up, but he wouldn’t have had the time to have breakfast anyway, so he just had a cup of coffee and left to the address Jack had sent him.

When he arrived to the small town, he had a strong _déjà vu_. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling... When he got to the crime scene it even got worse, because he could’ve sworn that he had seen the victim’s house before, somewhere… But he had never been there before.

“Will! Over here,” Jack called him, signaling for him.

He went towards him once he showed his credentials to the policemen, and they circled the house, going to the field behind it.

“I think you’re going to find our victim very interesting…” he told him, and Will frowned.

“Interesting?”

He was going to ask him what he meant, but they finally reached the circle of people that were around the victim, and he saw it…

He stopped abruptly. Before him, there was a perfectly displayed body on a tree, placed almost like it was crucified. He turned around, feeling his heartbeats pounding on his ears, and he saw Hannibal, looking right at him.

And then it hit him, and he understood why everything seemed so familiar; the man was the one from his nightmare.

It hadn’t been a nightmare.

 _He_ had killed that man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember that I wrote this episode and when I was finishing it I suddenly realized that it was almost completely from Hannibal's POV, and I really liked it. It just happened :)
> 
> Songs! Referenced in the chapter:
> 
> · [Folsom Prison Blues](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDktBZzQIiU), Johnny Cash (yes, in case you haven't noticed yet there's a lot of Johnny Cash on this fic. That's [redkakumei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/redkakumei/)'s fault)
> 
> On the playlist:
> 
> · [Believe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dW6SkvErFEE), Mumford & Sons  
> · [My body is a cage](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nhhZdune_5Q), Arcade fire  
> · [Oh, Salvaje](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZTliFF0bzg), Zahara (this one won't be included on the playlist, since it doesn't fit with the fic a lot, but it's SO Hannigram, I just had to include it here. Also, it's in Spanish so I'm sorry if you don't understand it!)


	10. Ten

“Will…”

The voice sounded distant, like he was inside a room and everything he heard came from the outside. And he _felt_ distant.

“Will?”

He could feel his heart beating like a hammer, echoing on his skull and sending waves of pain from his head to each and every single part of his body.

“Will!”

He finally opened his eyes and every sound amplified and it was suddenly too loud. He looked at Jack, who had a concerned expression.

“Are you okay? You were shaking, what did you see?”

Will looked around him, but the rest of the team was still away, around the victim’s house. He had asked them for space to concentrate on the crime scene, even though he had already seen everything he needed to see. But he still had to say something about the case…

Jack raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response.

“The…” he began saying, but he needed to organize his thoughts, so he cleared his throat. “The victim died by the house, as… you already know.”

“Yeah, we do. Anything about the killer?”

_Yeah, you’re looking at him_ , he thought, feeling his heart beating too fast.

“The killer… he was skilled. It was done with ability and efficiency,” he said, because it was what he had seen by looking at the crime scene, since everything he remembered was too hazy. “He was choked judging by the neck marks, and then he was dragged and displayed here. The killer wanted the victim to be found. He… chose this tree for that purpose. Almost like he was making a statement, sending a message.”

“A message to whom?”

“I don’t know…”

Will had seen that when he had closed his eyes, but he didn’t quite understand it. He had killed that man, and he had left the message to himself? Just so he knew that every time he thought he had been having a nightmare, everything had been really happening?

Jack looked at the tree where the body was, and he shook his head a little.

“Can you believe this? After all these years…”

Will looked at the man too, trying to maintain his expression. The victim had been the main suspect on one of his first cases before retiring. They had been really close to charge him, but he had walked away due to lack of evidence. And now there he was, killed in the exact way he had killed his victims; on a tree, with the hands nailed over his head. Will hadn’t worked with Jack back then, but he guessed he had already been informed about the case.

“What do you think? Karma or divine punishment…?” Jack asked, and he only managed to shrug.

Will thought that it was a punishment indeed, but certainly not very divine.

****

Later, he wouldn’t remember getting on his car and driving back to Wolf Trap from Quantico. He would only remember the moment when he went out of his car and walked towards his house, with a thousand thoughts crossing on his mind at the same time, unable of focusing on any of them. Because he was a murderer. He had killed a man. And the worst part was that it felt horribly wrong, but partly right at the same time given who the man had been… And that’s what made him sick.

When he came into his house, the dogs greeted him but he ignored them, because Hannibal had appeared in front of him. They looked at each other for a long time, and Will started piecing everything together. He was hallucinating with a serial killer that sometimes had killed adopting other murderer’s patterns, and that’s exactly what he had done himself. He had been cooking, listening to classical music… Had he been _becoming_ Hannibal Lecter?

In that moment, he remembered something from the dreams; the moment when he usually woke up, when he cut the victims open. And he remembered too what Hannibal Lecter usually took from his preys…

Will looked from Hannibal to his fridge, on the kitchen, and he almost ran towards it. He jerked the freezer’s door open and started searching through the contents. It had been a long time since he had looked for something in there, since most of the cooking was done by his _hallucination_. He hoped his hunch wasn’t true, he _wished_ for it… But then, he found a plastic container that he didn’t remember putting in. He took it out and opened it… and he dropped it on the counter, jumping backwards and slamming into the opposite wall.

“Will…” he heard Hannibal’s voice calling him.

He felt dizzy and nauseous, so he leaned against the wall and slipped to the floor, shaking. In the container, there was a liver and, in that moment, he was certain that it belonged to a human.

He held his head with his hands and tried to even his breathing while a shiver ran through his spine, because he felt like he would throw up if he didn’t. He heard Hannibal approaching him, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“Will, do you understand?” he asked him, but he didn’t answer. “Can you see now that everything was real?”

He opened his eyes and saw Hannibal crouching in front of him. Will felt his eyes and his throat burning, because everything was even worse than he had thought. He wasn’t simply losing his mind…

He nodded slightly to him.

“Those weren’t nightmares,” he said in a low voice, and Hannibal shook his head lightly.

“No, they weren’t.”

“I killed all those people…”

Hannibal frowned in that moment, as if he had said something he hadn’t expected.

“Only technically. But no, you didn’t, Will. I did.”

Will laughed in that moment, and the sound surprised them both. He felt a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Well, I’ll make sure to let the judge know that I wasn’t doing anything. I’m innocent, Your Honor, my fucking hallucination did it!!”

He stood up feeling the nausea, the anger, one of the strongest headaches he remembered having… And then he ran towards the bathroom, where he emptied everything he had on his stomach on the toilet. When he finished, he grabbed the sink to stand up, and he looked in the mirror. He saw himself, and standing behind him was Hannibal.

“Will.”

“Leave me alone…”

Will went out of the bathroom staggering towards his bed, and he sat at the edge. He felt like his legs couldn’t support him anymore, like his mind couldn’t stand another thought of everything he had done, of all the people he had killed without him being conscious about it…

“Will, I did that so you would know that it was real.”

“You are not real…” he whispered, not looking at him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Garret Jacob Hobbs looking at him, smiling, enjoying his suffering. He felt his stomach churning again, but he doubted he had anything else to throw up.

“Do you really think that you-“

“You are _not_ real!!” he screamed to both of them, and the loud voice made his head vibrate with pain.

Will closed his eyes, partly because of the unbearable pain, but also because he couldn’t stand looking at them, and he covered his ears. He wanted the hallucinations to go away, he wanted to be able to think, he wanted to stop feeling like he was so lost in a maze that there was no way out… He wanted everything to be over.

When he opened his eyes again, they had disappeared. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and in that moment, he felt like his body weighed a ton. He couldn’t move and he couldn’t think… So he slowly lay down on his side on top of the made bed, and he let himself fall into the darkness.

****

_Hannibal was sitting on the armchair when Will finally woke up. After he had sent him back to his room, he had waited for a couple of hours to return to him, and he had found him sound asleep._

_When he opened his eyes, Hannibal uncrossed his legs and took a deep breath. Will sat slowly up on the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. His head was bothering him, and Hannibal could feel the pain through their connection, even if he wasn’t expanding his mind to him._

_“How do you feel?” he asked him once he seemed to notice his presence._

_“I feel… like I’m fading.”_

_Hannibal tilted his head and swallowed a little._

_“Go take a shower and take two pills. When you get out, we’re going to have a conversation.”_

_Will looked at him as if he was about to punch him, but he didn’t say anything; instead, he got up and went to the bathroom, walking unsteadily._

_Hannibal went to the living room while he heard the water running, and he picked up the container with the liver he had taken from one of his previous victims, which was already almost completely defrosted. He cut it in even pieces and whistled. The dogs surrounded him, and he started throwing the pieces at each of them until it was all gone. It was a shame to not cook such a good piece of meat, but considering Will’s reaction to it, he didn’t think it would be a good idea to try and feed him with it. After that, he started preparing dinner. He made salmon with vegetables; a safe option for the delicate moment Will was going through._

_When the other went out of the bathroom with his hair still wet, he seemed more tired than ever, something that Hannibal didn’t think it was even possible. He sat in his usual spot and stared at the meal._

_“It’s fish, Will,” he said while sitting down in front of him, guessing his thoughts._

_Will looked up to him with a face of disgust, and he pushed the plate away from him._

_“Will-“_

_“How many?” he asked then, not letting him speak. Hannibal tilted his head. “How many people did I… kill?”_

_Hannibal sighed again, and leaned forwards resting his elbows on the table._

_“You haven’t killed anyone apart from Garret Jacob Hobbs,” he said, trying to make him understand._

_He suddenly looked at a corner of the room, and Hannibal followed his gaze, but there wasn’t anything there. When he turned to him again, he was pale._

_“How many?” he repeated._

_“Six,” Hannibal answered after a pause. “Our tree friend included. That was the only one I left to be found.”_

_He squeezed his eyes shut. Hannibal reached his mind a little and felt immediately lightheaded, so he withdrew. He wished to make him understand so he would stop thinking that everything he was seeing wasn’t real, but it seemed impossible._

_“What did you do with the… With…?” Will started asking when he opened his eyes, but he seemed incapable of saying it, so he just nodded towards the kitchen and Hannibal understood that he was talking about the liver._

_“I disposed of it. I don’t think you would’ve appreciated it on a meal,” he said._

_Will looked like he was going to be sick again at any moment, but he finally collected himself a bit._

_“Would you please share your theory about what is happening? Do you really think that you killed those people on your own, without being conscious and each time in the middle of a really high fever?” Hannibal finally asked him plainly._

_The other just looked at him with his eyes half closed._

_“Do you really believe that you somehow suddenly know how to cook things that you didn’t before? That you know how to do things you have never done? What about my memories, do you think you imagined those too?”_

_Will stood up abruptly, and he had to lean on the table for a second, probably feeling dizzy again, but once he could walk, he started going to his bedroom, leaving the food untouched. Hannibal got up and followed him into the room._

_“I know that deep down you already know the truth, Will, that you just refuse to see it, to accept it. But is it really easier to think that you killed all those people to the alternative?”_

_“Go away,” he said, with his back to him._

_“Is that how you plan on resolving everything, by not-?”_

_“You are not real… You aren’t…”_

_Will finally turned to look at him, and he gave him a sad look. Then, he went back to the bed, and he lay down again… But he didn’t fall asleep._

****

“Will?”

He blinked a couple of times and focused Jack’s face, who was frowning.

“Are you with us?”

“I… yes. I am. Sorry,” he said.

Beverly gave him an understanding smile from behind the table in which the body was laid out.

“Okay, as I was saying… The cause of death was asphyxiation, as we thought. There aren’t any other injuries pre or postmortem except, obviously, for the punctures on both the hands and-“

“There aren’t any missing organs?” he interrupted her.

Everyone turned to look at him, but Price shook his head.

“No, no missing organs.”

“Why would you think that?” Jack asked him, and he just shrugged a little.

“Just a hunch. I’m sorry, go on,” he said.

Price and Zeller shared a look, and then Beverly started talking again.

“Eh… Yeah, I was saying that the nail punctures are the only injuries. The killer did everything with precision and, sadly for us, he left no evidence on the surroundings of the house. Not even a thread…”

“That could be because our ‘ _victim_ ’ here was drunk as a skunk. The killer probably didn’t even have to make an effort…,” Zeller concluded, and Price raised an eyebrow.

When they finished the briefing, Jack thanked them and he asked Will to accompany him to his office. When he closed the door behind him, he felt his heartbeats hammering on his ears.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked him, even though it was clear that he knew the answer to that question.

“As good as I can be,” he lied, trying not to let his voice betray him.

“Well, you don’t seem like it,” he told him, and Will didn’t deny it. “Will, just… Go talk to Alana if you aren’t feeling well, okay?”

Will nodded and then walked out of Jack’s office knowing that he wouldn’t go talk to her. She would not be able to help him. Not when he was so sank in the darkness that surrounded him. Not when he was already so lost in himself.

****

_When he went to Will that night, he found him sitting on his couch, looking at the television without really watching it, and Hannibal felt the fever like it was a presence with its own form and body, taking up space in the room and making him feel a little lightheaded the second he appeared._

_Will didn’t even turn to look at him, even though Hannibal knew that he had noticed his arrival. He sat on the other couch and stared at him, waiting for him to do or say something, but Will just kept gazing at the screen._

_“Have you had dinner yet?”_

_Will moved a little on the couch, but he still refused to look at him._

_“Is this what you have decided to do? Ignore me?” he asked when it was clear that he wasn’t going to answer him._

_Buster approached him from his seat and touched Hannibal’s hand with his nose, to which he patted his head a little. Will saw it from the corner of his eye, but then he shook his head._

_“It’s not real…” he whispered to himself._

_Hannibal leaned forwards on the couch._

_“Will…” he called him, but the other didn’t turn to him. “Will.”_

_“Shut up!”_

_He_ finally _looked at Hannibal, which felt like a small victory, if only for a second, since Will gave him a furious look._

_“I_ am _ignoring you, because you are not real, and-,” he stopped all of the sudden and pinched the bridge of his nose. “_ He _is not real. He’s_ not _.”_

_He stood up and went to the kitchen, so Hannibal followed him._

_“Go to Baltimore, Will,” he said then while Will took a glass and filled it with water. He chuckled with sarcasm. “Tomorrow. Go to Baltimore and request an interview with Hannibal Lecter.”_

_“Shut up,” he repeated, and he took the bottle of aspirins from one of the drawers._

_“If you are so sure about me not being real, do it. Go to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane and ask them to see me.”_

_Will finally turned around, but he realized how close Hannibal was, so he leaned back on the counter. He took two pills and swallowed them with the help of the water._

_“I have nothing to say to Hannibal Lecter,” he said, breaking once again his rule of not answering to him._

_Will left the glass on the sink and walked away from him bending his back to avoid touching him at all costs._

_“I think maybe you are just afraid of this being real.”_

_Will froze in the middle of the living room, and Hannibal knew that his guess was probably right. He let his mind expand a little towards him even though he knew the fever would hit him, and it did… But he also felt something underneath: Will’s anger. It was boiling inside him, and he wondered if it had been there since he had appeared, or if the last thing he had said to him had awoken it. But he didn’t have much time to wonder anything else, because Will turned around and in an instant he retraced his steps and all of the sudden he was over him. Will grabbed him by the uniform and shoved him against the fridge. Then, in a movement that he thought it was too fast considering Will’s state, he took a knife from the counter and moved it close to his neck._

_He stood very still while Will breathed heavily with his eyes fixed on him, and the fever and fury reached Hannibal like blaze._

_“If you are real…” Will said, with his eyes widened. “Then what if I make you bleed?”_

_Hannibal knew that it was probably the fever talking, but he smiled anyway. Seeing Will this way filled him with delight, even if he was threatening him._

_In that moment, he wondered what would happen if Will cut him. It was very unlikely that he would be hurting him physically, but would he be hurting himself? Or neither of them? He decided that he was more curious than concerned, and then moved a little forwards, enough to feel the blade of the knife touching his skin._

_“There’s only one way to find out,” he whispered to him._

_Will pursed his lips, shaking a little, with his chest heaving with his breathing, and he looked at him even angrier if that was even possible. He moved the knife away from his neck, and Hannibal thought that he was going to retire… But then Will made a sudden movement and Hannibal_ felt _the pain and he frowned, because he hadn’t expected it. Hannibal turned slowly and looked at his shoulder, where the uniform had a little rip, and he could see the thin cut on his skin. A drop of blood started going down to his biceps, and he stayed still while it disappeared under the rip and it stained the sleeve, the red slowly expanding on the fabric. He looked at Will again, who also had his gaze locked upon the cut with his eyes wide open. He felt him with his mind and sensed that the confusion had defeated the anger._

_Hannibal then moved a hand to the cut and he touched it. He felt the sting when he ran a finger across the wound, he looked at the blood and then he took the finger to his lips, where he licked it. He tasted the blood on his mouth, and he closed his eyes, wondering how was that possible._

_When he opened his eyes, he saw that Will was staring at him with his brow furrowed, and he held his gaze, with no idea of what to say or do. They looked at each other for a few seconds, but Will suddenly seemed to become aware of how incredibly close they were. Their breaths merged in the short space between them, and Hannibal could even feel Will’s fever heat reaching him through the clothes that separated their skins._

_Will finally released him and took a couple of steps backwards, shaking his head a little, like he wasn’t sure of what had happened. Then, without looking at him again, he threw the knife on top of the counter and went to his room, turning the lights off and leaving him there, on the dark._

_When he was able to move, he focused on his room in Baltimore and Will’s kitchen disappeared around him. The second he was there, he looked at his shoulder, and he realized disappointed that the uniform wasn’t ripped. He stretched the neck with a pull to look at his skin anyway, and there wasn’t anything. But he had_ felt _it, he could still feel the cut it on his skin, and he could still taste the blood on his mouth…_

_Hannibal closed his eyes for a moment, and then he went towards the bed, determined. From the corner of the mattress, he took out a little staple. Chilton had forgotten to take it out from one of the magazines he brought him, and he had been keeping it just in case, even though it was too small to use it to cause any real damage. But now he was going to use it._

_He had never felt the need to harm himself in any way, and he would never do. But it wasn’t about that; he didn’t need to inflict himself pain. He had felt the blade kissing his skin, he could even still feel it, pulsing like a real wound… And he just couldn’t stand the idea of looking at his shoulder and not see Will’s wound there._

_He sat at the edge of his bed and unzipped the uniform enough to expose his shoulder. Then, he took the staple between the index and the thumb, he put the tip on the place where he had feel the cut… And he slid it on his skin, twitching a little when he felt the pain again._

_Then he looked at the thin wound; it was imperfect and crooked, but now he did have the mark… Will’s mark._

****

_That week turned into a constant and hopeless dance between them. Hannibal tried to continue doing everything as they usually did, so he appeared every morning and made breakfast, and he kept showing up on the afternoons to make dinner. Will then would refuse to touch anything Hannibal made, and started preparing his own meals._

_He tried to talk to him the first days, but Hannibal finally gave up when he saw that he wasn’t going to accomplish anything that way. So they started spending their time together in complete silence, Will doing everything he could to ignore him and Hannibal trying to make it as difficult as possible._

_As the days went by, he also noticed that Will was getting even worse. His hallucinations started being more frequent, even if he tried to disguise it. Hannibal sometimes saw him staring at a specific place of a room, or he would suddenly turn his head like he had heard something, and then he would pretend like nothing had happened, although Hannibal sensed how uneasy and edgy he really felt._

_The case started to be left aside in a matter of days. Very soon, they ran out of people to question in the town, none of which had seen anything or knew anything, so they ended up in dead-end street; they had no evidence, no witnesses and absolutely no leads, exactly like Hannibal had meant it._

_On Christmas Eve, he thought that maybe Will would go with Jack and Bella to celebrate it, since he had invited him the day before, but when he appeared in the house, Will was watching television wrapped in a blanket with the fireplace lit up. It didn’t look like he was about to go anywhere, so he sat in his couch and Will kept pretending like he couldn’t see him._

_“You don’t feel like celebrating Christmas?” he asked him after a couple of minutes._

_Will just took his hand out of the blanket and then he raised the volume of the television with the remote control. Hannibal couldn’t help to smile a little._

_“Is it because of the fever? I could cook something, if you want,” he said, raising his voice enough so Will could hear him. “I think there’s still some trout on the freezer. It’s not the most Christmassy meal, but-“_

_“I don’t celebrate Christmas,” Will said flatly, without turning to look at him._

_He closed his eyes for a second, like he had remembered he wasn’t supposed to talk to him, and then he sighed and continued looking at the television, and they didn’t talk about it anymore._

_Hannibal came back to his room at dinnertime, and the nurse came in with a tray with a ‘_ special’ _meal for Christmas._

_“Thank you so much, Denise. And Merry Christmas,” he said when she left the food for him._

_“Merry Christmas to you too, Doctor Lecter,” she answered in a monotone._

_Hannibal ate that night in his room, giving Will a little space, and the next morning he returned and kept trying to make it difficult for him to ignore him._

_But then, at the end of the week, Hannibal woke up in the middle of the night and he knew that something was wrong. He immediately thought about Will, and appeared in the other bed, which was unmade but empty. He touched the left side of the mattress, where Will should be, and he felt it cold. He stood up and saw that a couple of the dogs were out of their own beds, visibly nervous. Hannibal then heard a sob coming from the bathroom, and he approached it. He turned the lights on, and he found Will sitting on the space between the toilet and the sink. In that moment he shadowed his eyes with a hand when the light blinded him. But Hannibal’s gaze fell upon what Will had on his other hand, resting over his knees; his gun._

_When the other could open his eyes, he looked at him and Hannibal saw that he was crying and shaking._

_“Will?” he asked him, trying to understand the situation, even though deep down, he had already pieced it together._

_“I can’t… I can’t keep waiting,” Will murmured, and he didn’t know if he was talking to Hannibal or to himself._

_“What do you mean?”_

_Hannibal slowly took a step forward, feeling the cold of the tiled floor under his bare feet._

_“I keep seeing it every night… I kill them every single night, over and over again,” he whispered, and he moved the gun a little._

_“I already told you, Will. It wasn’t you,” he said for the hundredth time._

_Will shook his head and a couple of tears rolled down his cheeks._

_“I can’t keep waiting until I do it again,” he said, ignoring his words. “And… I don’t want to go to jail.”_

_And then Hannibal knew what he was planning on doing. He took another step forward and crouched down in front of him. He lowered his head a little so Will would look at him in the eyes, and he did so willingly for the first time in a week._

_“Will, give me the gun,” Hannibal asked him, putting his hand in front of him._

_“I can’t keep waiting until something happens. Until… until I kill again. I could hurt someone innocent…”_

_Will looked at the gun and raised it a little, with his hand shaking._

_“Will, look at me,” Hannibal asked him, and he did so again._

_“I can’t…” he repeated._

_Hannibal extended his hand and grazed the back of Will’s. In that moment, he felt his emotions hitting him like a blow; his fear, his despair, his sadness… He felt it like a wave crashing against him, but he tried to control it, to remain calm so he could share that feeling with Will. New tears rolled down his cheeks, but Will stopped shaking a little, without taking his eyes off of him._

_“That’s it…” he whispered to him._

_Hannibal wrapped his other hand in the barrel of the gun, and with the other he took Will’s hand firmly, making sure the contact wasn’t broken. Then, he pulled the gun slowly, and when he made sure Will wasn’t holding the gun anymore, he let his hand fell on his lap, empty. Will closed his eyes and rested his head on the wall, like he had just been released from a huge weight. Hannibal sighed a little and stood up. He took the gun and put it on Will’s wardrobe, since he couldn’t actually get rid of it. Then, he returned to the bathroom. He helped Will stand up by taking him by an arm and making him lean on him, and then he walked him to his bed. When he fell onto the mattress, Will curled up and stayed still, the tears starting to dry on his cheeks. He fell asleep before he even had the chance to cover him with the sheets._

_That night, Hannibal stayed with him to make sure he didn’t have any more nightmares._

****

Will woke up with the ring tone of his phone, and he had to blink a couple of times before he could actually focus the screen. It read ‘Jack’, so he sat up and cleared his throat before taking it.

“Yeah?”

“Will, we’ve got a case. Come to the Joseph Meyerhoff Symphony Hall.”

When he hanged up, he left the phone on his nightstand, and he suddenly remembered the previous night. He felt his stomach clenching at the thought, because he had been too close to go through with it…

He had woken up in the middle of the night from another one of the nightmares that now he knew that were actually memories, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He was a ticking bomb, and he couldn’t keep killing people without even being aware of it… But now he couldn’t think about that, because he had work. And maybe his job was the thing that was destroying him, but _someone_ had to do it…

When he went to the living room, Hannibal was waiting for him with breakfast prepared. He couldn’t meet his eyes, and for the first time in a week, it wasn’t because he was trying to ignore him, but because he remembered how he had taken the gun from his hands the previous night. He ate in silence what Hannibal had prepared, and neither one of them said anything.

When he arrived at the crime scene, he felt a shiver the moment he saw the body. On the very center of the stage, there was a man sitting on a chair, with his throat cut open and the neck of an instrument introduced through the mouth. The killer had literally made an instrument out of the man.

“The victim is Douglas Wilson, member of the Baltimore Metropolitan Orchestra. A trombone player,” Jack informed him when they went up the stage.

The rest of the forensic team started clearing the scene out as they always did whenever he appeared.

“You okay?” Jack asked him.

Will nodded without taking his eyes from the body. It was a dark and twisted thing to watch, but somehow, it had a sinister beauty that had hypnotized him the moment he had walked in.

“Well, take your time. We’ll come back when you’re ready,” he told him, and he went out with Beverly and the rest of the team.

When he heard the door closing, he started stepping backwards to watch the scene with a better perspective. Hannibal appeared on his visual field, and it surprised him, since he usually didn’t appear on the crime scenes. He was looking at the body with his head tilted, studying it. Will ignored him and, when he was at the edge of the stage, he closed his eyes and the images started flowing.

He saw himself cutting the victim’s throat to access the trachea and expose the vocal chords. Then, he opened the man’s throat from the inside using the neck of a cello. He wanted to play him like an instrument… So Will approached the body with the bow in hand, and started playing it; he heard the tune, echoing in the hall, dark and deep…

He opened his eyes and gasped a little. Hannibal was looking at him from the side, and then he heard something; someone was clapping. Will turned around thinking that a member of the forensic team was joking… But he saw Garret Jacob Hobbs sitting in the middle of the hall, clapping his pale hands together and smiling at him.

“I think I know who this killer is,” Hannibal said then.

Will turned around and the applause ceased. Hannibal had approached the body and was observing it more closely. He ignored him and walked out of the hall before he could hallucinate with anything else.

****

In the laboratory in Quantico, Jack left him alone with Beverly, Zeller and Price, since he had an urgent matter to take care of. The three of them were circling the table with the body, and Will was sitting on a chair a little away from them, because he was feeling so tired he feared that he was going to collapse if he stood up.

They told him everything they had found in the body, like olive oil, which puzzled Zeller specially.

“He removed anything non-muscular or fatty from around the vocal folds. The chords themselves were treated with a sulfur dioxide solution,” Zeller said.

“The sulfur dioxide had the effect of hardening the vocal chords,” Price continued.

“Made them easier to play,” Will translated out of that information, and then he looked at the dead body, and felt almost angry at him. “Had to open you up to get a decent sound out of you...”

The other three looked at him with surprise, and Will looked away when he realized how that had sounded.

“He took the time to whiten the vocal chords before playing them,” Zeller continued with the briefing.

“It's not about whitening them. It was about… increasing elasticity,” Will corrected him, since he had _seen_ it in his mind.

“He treated the vocal chords the same way you treat catgut string. I played the violin,” Beverly explained before anyone could ask her how she knew that.

Will stood up from his chair, resisting the dizziness that came with the movement, and he approached the table.

“This takes a steady hand… Confidence. He has killed before,” he explained.

“Like this?” Price asked him, but he shook his head a little.

“No, not like this. This is a skilled musician trying a new instrument…”

The three of them looked at each other sideways, and Will turned around to retire. He knew how he sounded, but he couldn’t find the strength to care even a little bit.

When he came back to Wolf Trap that afternoon, the first thing he did was sit on his couch and lean his head back. He felt like his own body weighed more each day or he was more and more tired… Maybe one day he would be completely unable to even get out of his bed.

“Do you not want me to tell you what I know about this killer?”

Will didn’t open his eyes, but he had felt Hannibal appear, so it didn’t startle him.

“He was a friend of one my patients,” he continued saying. “I wonder if he’ll still be alive or if our musician has already killed him… He certainly wanted to.”

Will finally opened his eyes and looked at him, sitting on the couch in front of him. He looked pensive while he absently rubbed a finger over his lower lip. Will gathered his remaining strength and stood up to go to the bathroom. Once he was there, he took two pills and swallowed them.

“Don’t you want to know his name?” Hannibal insisted right outside the bathroom.

“No,” he answered flatly, and he slammed the door.

****

_Hannibal was trying not to take Will’s refusal to see the truth as something personal, but it was starting to be a little difficult. He came back to his room and tried to think about what else he could do. A letter was simply not an option; he didn’t want people to know anything about their connection, and every letter he sent had to be read and approved first by more people than he would like to, so he had rejected that idea immediately. A phone call was another option, but he was sure that, if he called him, Will would probably find a way of convincing himself that it was a hallucination too. So he had ruled it out too. But he needed to do something, and quick. He was running out of time, since Will was getting worse by the day. And then, while he was pacing on his room, he had an idea. Something that Will could not ignore or attribute to a hallucination…_

_He patiently waited until it was dinnertime, moment in which the nurse came in his room._

_“Louisa, would you please be so kind as to inform Dr. Chilton or any other staff member that I would like to talk to my attorney as soon as possible?” he asked her with a charming smile._

_The nurse left the food on the tray, and she nodded, unimpressed by his good manners, so he thanked her. When she left the room, he smiled again, anticipating what he was going to put in motion._

****

_The following day he had to endure another tedious session with Chilton in the morning, in which he made Hannibal take one useless test after another. But since he needed to make the phone call, he behaved._

_“So, one of the nurses tells me you want to speak to your attorney?” he asked him when they finished and he started gathering the papers on his desk._

_“Yes, there’s a matter I need to discuss with him,” Hannibal said, and his voice sounded deeper behind the mask._

_“Very well. A nurse will take the phone to your room later.”_

_Hannibal disliked Chilton for many reasons, but he usually was a man of his word. And so, shortly after they took him back to his room and he was free of the straitjacket and the mask, a nurse entered the room._

_“Stay back,” she told him, even though he was already standing on the farthest part of the room, with his hands interlaced behind his back. “If you move before I go out, I’ll mace you.”_

_“Of course,” he nodded, smiling a little._

_The nurse approached the tray with the wheeled table in which there was the portable phone. She opened the tray and put the handset inside, and then closed it._

_“Thank you so much,” he told her, and she gave him a last look before she went out._

_Hannibal then approached the tray and put everything he had been keeping on his pockets over the tray. Then, he took the phone._

_“Are you ready for your call?” a man from the Hospital asked him._

_“Yes, please,” he answered in a cheerful tone._

_Then, he got to work; he opened the lower part of the phone and introduced the foil gum wrapper he had kept hidden on his room for several weeks, just in case he had to use it. The call was interrupted, and then a new tone started dialing. He put the receiver back on his ear._

_“Operator.”_

_“Operator, I don’t have the use of my hands. Would you please do me the favor of ringing Tobias Budge? He owns a string shop in Baltimore, Maryland, although I can’t quite remember the name.”_

_“Hold, please,” the operator told him, and the line went silent for a few seconds. “Tobias Budge, Chordophone String Shop?”_

_“Yes, that’s exactly right.”_

_“I’ll transfer your call. Have a nice day.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_Hannibal smiled and waited while he heard the tone. After a couple of seconds, someone picked it up._

_“Chordophone String Shop, how may I help you?” a musical voice asked him._

_“Hello, Tobias?” Hannibal greeted him, smiling wider._

_“Yes, that’s me.”_

_“My name is Hannibal Lecter, you must remember that we briefly met once through an acquaintance in common, Franklyn.”_

_“I… I’m sorry, did you say Hannibal Lecter?” he asked after a short pause._

_“Yes.”_

_“_ The _Hannibal Lecter?” he asked, a little skeptical._

_“Yes, Tobias. Listen closely, because I don’t have much time. This is a courtesy call. There is a special agent on the FBI who knows about you, but he hasn’t yet told anyone. May I suggest that you pay him a friendly visit?”_

_Hannibal waited a few seconds, but the other stayed silent._

_“Are you listening?”_

_“Yes…” Tobias said, with a more serious tone than at the beginning of the conversation._

_“Good. Then write it down or memorize it: William Graham. He lives in Wolf Trap, I’m sure you can find him on the directory,” he said, and he waited for another second. “Do you need me to spell it out for you?”_

_“No. I got it.”_

_“Wonderful. And please, don’t forget to greet him on my behalf? Oh, and don’t worry… Your secret’s safe with me.”_

_The other hanged up, so Hannibal started undoing everything he had done, and finally put the phone back on the tray. He smiled again, because everything was going according to plan._

****

Will woke up, and blinked a couple of times while his eyes adjusted to the darkness of his room. He sat up a little and looked at the clock on the nightstand; it was 3.05 am. He hadn’t been having a nightmare, so he wasn’t sure why he had woken up. But then, he heard it: one of the dogs was growling on the living room, and his heart skipped a beat. He pushed the sheets aside and went to his wardrobe, put on the first pants he found and then he took his gun, which had been there since he had tried to use it three nights before. He went to the living room, where Max was growling while the rest of the pack surrounded her or went to hide on another room. Will thought for a second that maybe it was one of his hallucinations, but the dogs never saw or heard them, with the exception of Hannibal. And the only reason for them to behave like that was because someone was around the house. So he decided to go out.

Will first peeked out from the windows, but he didn’t see anything. Then, he unlocked the safety of the gun, raised it in front of him and he slowly opened the door. He looked to both sides of the porch, but it was empty. He closed the door behind him so the dogs wouldn’t get out, and then he went down the couple of stairs, looking everywhere… but all he saw was the field in front of his house, the trees that surrounded him, and darkness…

He was about to lower the gun when one of the dogs barked from inside the house, and he quickly turned around. He saw Garret Jacob Hobbs coming at him, and he froze, unable to move… And then he received the punch on his face. He looked briefly at the person attacking him and saw that it wasn’t Garret Jacob Hobbs at all… But before he could register anything else, the man kicked him hard on the stomach, sending him to the ground… And the gun slipped away from his hand.

_Hannibal woke up startled, having felt like something had touched him… but obviously, there was nobody there. He sat up, and he felt pain spreading through his abdomen, and he then understood; Will._

_He focused on him and the setting immediately changed. He registered the scene quickly; he had appeared outside the house, the dogs were barking and howling inside, Will was on the ground, crawling to recover his handgun… And Tobias Budge was walking towards him, with what looked like a string on one hand._

_Hannibal approached them and saw everything as it happened. Will was about to reach the gun when Tobias got to him, and he hit him on his side again, which sent him a few feet farther from the handgun. Hannibal twitched at the blow. Will coughed, trying to recover, and then Tobias stopped above him and took the string with both hands, ready to choke him with it. Will put a hand between the string and his neck in the last minute, and Tobias pulled violently, lifting Will with the movement._

_“Hannibal Lecter sends his regards, Mr. Graham,” Tobias told him in his ear, and Will’s eyes widened with the effort and the shock._

_In that moment, time seemed to freeze, and Hannibal saw Will appearing beside him. His body was still a few feet away from him, frozen in a struggling position with Tobias, but at the same time, he was also right next to him, gasping and looking around him confused._

_“What... What’s happening?” he asked, inhaling gulps of air and looking at his other self._

_“I believe you are in danger,” Hannibal answered to him, and the other seemed to notice him for the first time._

_“What? What is… What is going on?”_

_“Will, that man right there is Tobias Budge. He is your skilled musician, the one who murdered the trombone player,” he patiently explained to him, and Will looked at Tobias for a moment, while he kept trying to even his breathing. “I told you I knew who he was.”_

_Will turned to him again, and he frowned, still confused._

_“Will… I can help you. I can fight him,” he told him._

_“No, no… No.”_

_Will shook his head, and then closed his eyes… He seemed to return to his body, and time started going by normally again. Will grunted under the effort, but then he elbowed Tobias on the knee with the free hand, which took him by surprise. That gave him a second to free himself from the string, and he fell on the ground, where he kicked the other on the same place, hard enough to make him knee from the pain. Will tried to stand up and go towards the gun, but he tripped, and by that time, Tobias had already recovered. Hannibal saw him throwing the string to the ground and taking something from a pocket: a knife._

_“Will,” Hannibal said without being able to restrain himself._

_The other was standing up again and he turned with his warning, in time to see Tobias going at him with the knife. He dodged the first attacks the other threw, but Tobias was strong, and Will was weak from the fever, the fatigue and the hits he had already received, and he certainly wasn’t prepared to put up a fight against him… So the knife touched him and made a superficial cut on the arm, ripping his t-shirt a little and staining it with blood. Will groaned with pain and tripped again trying to avoid his attacker’s movements. Tobias took advantage of that to place himself again above Will and hold him by the neck. He lifted him again while Will tried to free himself, but the other’s grip was stronger… Tobias raised the hand with the knife, and then it fell too quickly to even see it in the dark. Will managed to divert the course of the knife a little, and it hit him on the shoulder instead of the neck, as Tobias probably had intended._

_Will screamed, and time stopped again, freezing everything around him. Beside him, Will appeared shaking and covering the shoulder wound with his left hand immediately. He fell on his knees, and Hannibal crouched in front of him and held him so he didn’t fall on the ground._

_“Will. Look at me, Will,” he said, shaking him a little so he would open his eyes._

_The blood was flowing through his fingers despite his efforts to contain it, and he was wincing, but he finally looked at him._

_“You are going to die if you don’t let me help you. Do you understand?”_

_Will shook his head a little, but Hannibal knew he had understood it._

_“Let me do this…”_

_“Why… why are you doing this?” he asked him._

_“I wanted you to believe me…” Hannibal explained to him, and then he looked for a moment behind him, where Tobias was still stabbing Will’s body, frozen in time. Then, he turned again to him. “Let me take care of this.”_

_A tear rolled down Will’s cheek, probably because he knew that he didn’t really have a choice… and then, he closed his eyes and nodded a little. That was enough for Hannibal._

_He focused and, when he went into Will’s body, he felt all his pain hitting him at once, but he maintained his concentration. He opened his eyes and grabbed the handle of the knife buried in his flesh, and then he pulled. In a quick movement, he stabbed Tobias on the thigh, and that made him lose his grip so he released him. He tried to stand up, but realized it was harder than he thought in Will’s body, since his fatigue and the wounds were weakening him, but he finally managed it. Tobias was standing up too, grabbing his thigh with both hands and looking surprised by his counterattack. Hannibal smiled and readjusted the knife on his hand. Then, he made a gesture to him, inviting him to attack._

_Tobias pursed his lips, and then he launched towards him. Hannibal moved aside in the last moment, and swung the hand with the knife to cut him in the back. Tobias screamed and writhed in pain, trying to touch the cut, but he couldn’t reach it. Hannibal waited for him to move again, and when he launched at him once more, he cut him again, this time on his chest. The third time he went at him, he changed the knife to his other hand and instead he threw a precise and hard punch to his windpipe that the other wasn’t expecting at all. Tobias fell onto his knees, trying to breathe, but the effect would last for a few seconds._

_Hannibal paused for a moment to catch his breath, and he looked at Will, who was observing everything from a distance while covering his shoulder, even though Hannibal could feel the blood flowing on_ his _shoulder._

_Tobias touched his neck with both hands, as if by doing that the air would start entering again. Hannibal walked to him and placed himself behind him, exactly in the same position in which Tobias had tried to kill Will, but he wasn’t going to fail. He grabbed him by the jaw and lifted his head a little, ignoring his weak attempts to hit him. When he put the knife on his neck, he raised his gaze and saw Will looking at him… and neither of them looked away when Hannibal moved the knife and sliced Tobias’ throat._

_He dropped him while he tried to stop the blood, pointlessly, and then he looked up at the moon and took a deep breath. Then, he closed his eyes and left Will’s body. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Will falling on his knees. He dropped the knife and looked at his hands, covered in blood. Hannibal approached him and knelt in front of him, and Will looked at him, shaking uncontrollably and gasping for air. He extended a hand and covered Will’s shoulder wound, and, after a second of hesitation, he caressed Will’s cheek with the other, wiping some of the blood drops that had reached his face. He touched his skin gently, trying to infuse him calm, but in that moment his touch wasn’t enough for that, probably because he himself wasn’t completely calm either, overwhelmed by Will’s and his own feelings._

_“Wh- what…?” Will tried to ask, but the words didn’t come out of his mouth._

_“It’s going to be okay, Will. You can rest now, let me handle this…”_

_“No, no, no…” he said, and he blinked and a few tears rolled down his cheek, some of them disappearing beneath Hannibal’s palm._

_“It’s okay. Put your head back, close your eyes… Wade into the quiet of the stream,” Hannibal told him, remembering his words._

_Will shook his head a little, trying to resist it… But he still closed his eyes, granting him permission, and finally rested, drifting into the unconsciousness._

_So Hannibal took care of everything._

****

Will woke up grabbing his sheets and sitting up. He immediately felt his head throbbing with pain, but there was something else occupying his mind when he sat at the edge of his bed and ran a hand through his face… And that were the previous nights’ memories. They didn’t suddenly hit him or appeared in his mind bit by bit, because they had been right there the second he had opened his eyes. He remembered everything clearly; the fight, the man’s face, Hannibal next to him asking him to let him in, how black the blood on his hands had looked…

And Hannibal’s words, telling him to close his eyes so he would deal with everything… That was the last thing he remembered.

He could try to tell himself that it had been a nightmare, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself, not anymore… Because he _knew_ that it had really happened. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that Hannibal Lecter might not be a hallucination, but he could hear the man’s words ringing on his ears, repeating the same thing again and again… ‘ _Hannibal Lecter sends his regards, Mr. Graham_ …’

How was _that_ even possible? What _was_ Hannibal if not something created by his mind…?

Will tried to stand up, but in that moment every bit of his body ached. He remembered the stabbing and he stretched the neck of his t-shirt to look at his right shoulder, where the knife had bit his flesh. He had a bandage covering the wound, but it hurt a lot. In that moment, even though he couldn’t exactly remember it, he _knew_ that it had been Hannibal who had patched him up and cleaned the blood from his hands and clothes. He felt his stomach clenching at that thought, so he pushed it aside to a corner of his mind.

When he stood up, he also felt pain in his side from the several blows he had received, and he wondered if he didn’t have a broken rib. When he went into the bathroom, he inspected the marks; his left cheek was starting to turn purple from the first punch, he had a thin cut on his right biceps, a mark on the neck, where the string had made contact with his skin, and his right wrist was also marked by the string, since it had been what had saved him from being choked. He really looked like shit, and he felt even worse.

When he went out of the bathroom limping a bit, his phone rang, so he went to his nightstand and took it. On the screen, he read Jack’s name and his heart started beating faster, the anxiety tensing up every muscle of his body, but he still answered.

“Will,” he said, trying not to let the thousand thoughts he had on his mind taint his voice.

“Sorry to call you on New Year’s Eve, Will,” Jack told him, and he frowned. He had completely forgotten the date he lived in, so he had no idea it was New Year’s Eve. “We have another body. It seems like it’s been a crazy week in Baltimore…”

He felt his stomach turning upside down. But it couldn’t be…

“Eh… Okay, I’ll be there.”

He hanged up before Jack, and dropped his phone on top of the bed… And in that moment, he saw the note on the other side of the mattress. He took the piece of paper and held it to read it. In a neat and elegant calligraphy that wasn’t his at all, there were only a few words, but it was enough to make his heart skip a beat: ‘ _You can’t ignore me forever. H.L._ ’

Will crumpled the note, threw it back on the bed and raised his gaze gasping for air… And from the corner of his room, Garret Jacob Hobbs looked back at him with his lifeless eyes, smiling.

****

When he arrived at the crime scene, he was making an effort not to shake, but it was hard when he couldn’t stop trying to imagine what he was going to find in there.

The door of the Chordophone String Shop was wide opened, and policemen were going in and out or trying to keep the curious people behind the tape. When he finally got inside, he found Jack there.

“What happened to you?” he asked him the second he laid eyes on Will, frowning.

Will didn’t understand him at first, but then he remembered the bruise on his cheek. At least he had remembered to put on a scarf to cover the bruises and cuts of the neck. He waved a hand, trying to downplay it.

“It’s nothing, I just had a silly accident,” he lied, and he felt his heart beating fast on his chest.

He knew for his expression that Jack didn’t really bought his excuse, but after a moment, he focused back on the case.

“Our victim is Tobias Budge, owner of this shop,” he said while they made their way through the different rooms, full of instruments. “One of his students discovered him when he went by this morning and saw the door open. He thought it was strange, considering it’s New Year’s Eve, so he came in and found this… The kid will be scarred for life, that’s for sure.”

When they reached the body, Will had to close his eyes for a second. He saw confirmed what he had feared while going to the crime scene; he recognized his attacker, even though he was sitting on a chair and twisted almost exactly like the victim from the hall…

“Looks almost like our last victim, but it feels wrong, doesn’t it?” Jack said, half-closing his eyes.

“That’s because it’s not the same killer,” Will whispered, without being able to help it.

“I think so too, because the most interesting thing is not here. We’ve found in the basement several guts that seem to be human, according to the lab guys. And I could bet my money that some are going to match our trombone player…”

Will nodded without taking his eyes off the body. Jack let out a sigh.

“If this guy is the one who killed the Orchestra player, I’m going to start thinking that maybe we have a killers’ hunter around here…”

In that moment someone came into the room, and saved Will the necessity to answer.

“Sir, a Franklyn Froideveaux is waiting outside. He says he was a friend of the victim,” a policewoman said.

“Okay, thank you,” Jack said, and then he turned to him. “Let us know when you’re done.”

Will nodded again, and then Jack went outside and everything fell silent around him. But he wasn’t alone; Garret Jacob Hobbs was there again, observing him. He shook his head a little, trying to make him disappear, but there he was, with his gaze always locked upon him…

Will didn’t need to reenact the killing in his mind, since he remembered every bit of it. He could perfectly see Hannibal’s face when he had sliced his throat, saving Will’s life and ending the man’s. And even though he didn’t remember that, he knew that Hannibal had done all of that, too. He had cured him, cleaned him, and he had prepared the body, emulating Tobias’ murder. Hannibal had made sure that he couldn’t keep ignoring him, that he couldn’t keep making up excuses…

When Will went outside almost running, he bumped into Jack, who was talking to a short man who looked very upset and anxious.

“Excuse me,” he told the man, and he made Will moved aside. “You’re already done?”

“Yeah, I…” he said, and he suddenly heard a howl, so he turned around… but he saw that everybody was behaving normal. Nobody else had listened to it, because it was another hallucination. He couldn’t help to shiver a little. “I… Jack, I don’t feel well.”

“Yeah, you _don’t_ look well. Are you ill? Or is it because of the cases…? I understand that it’s been a crazy week…”

“I… don’t know,” he confessed, and he ran a hand through his face, taking his glasses off.

“Okay, don’t worry. Go home and get some rest. Whatever it is you’ve found out, it can wait. Are you okay to drive?”

Will nodded, even though he wasn’t that sure, and then Jack let him go. He made the way to his car listening only to his heartbeats, pounding on his temples, and feeling waves of pain on every single part of his body.

When he arrived to Wolf Trap, he realized that he didn’t remember the trip; he had no idea how he had made the way back… His headache was killing him despite having taken two pills, and the first thing he saw when he went into his house, was Garret Jacob Hobbs waiting there for him, and he just couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Leave me… alone!” he yelled, rubbing his eyes as if that could make him disappear.

“Will?”

Will turned around and saw Hannibal standing aside, but he looked back at the other one. He was everywhere, every time, constantly reminding him of what he had done, of what he was…

“You are not real,” he mumbled.

“Will, you _still_ think that-“ Hannibal started saying, but he shook his head.

“No, not you… him!” he said, pointing at him.

He felt his head burning, like a fire that he couldn’t extinguish. His sight blurred for a moment, but he could still sense his dead cold eyes, staring at him.

“Will, there is nobody there.”

“What? Yes, there is...” he pointed again, and his arm felt like it belonged to another person.

“Who is?” Hannibal asked him, and he took a step towards him.

“Garret Jacob Hobbs!”

“Will, he’s dead. You killed him, remember?”

Will pressed his head with both hands, because the pain was unbearable. And _how_ could Hannibal not see him when he was right in front of them, with that disgusting smile.

“No! Don’t lie to me, he’s _right there_!”

He looked at Hannibal, but he shook his head a little, denying again that someone was there. But he was _seeing_ him, Garret Jacob Hobbs was there… Was he…?

“What… What is happening to me?!?”

The fire in his head intensified and it felt like it was about to explode… And then everything went dark.

_Hannibal took Will’s face on his hands and opened his eyes. He was having a seizure and his body was shaking violently. He had feared that it might happen, but he didn’t think it would be so soon. He thought he still had a little time to speak to him, to make him understand... In that moment, he thought about what he could do, but the solution was pretty simple to him._

_When the spasms stopped and Will lost consciousness, he closed his eyes and sighed before going into the other’s body, since he knew he would feel Will’s immense pain as his, even though it would be dimmed, and that’s exactly what happened. When he was able to move, he realized it was harder than ever. When he had controlled febrile and unconscious Will, he had known his movements were a little slower, but controlling him after he had had a seizure was much more difficult._

_In a normal situation, he would never try to move him while he was in that state, but he figured that since Will wasn’t really the one moving, he would be okay. And he feared that he might end up having brain damage, so he needed medical care that he just couldn’t provide._

_When he could control Will, Hannibal went out, got into his car and started driving while the snow started falling from the sky._

****

When he opened his eyes, all he could see at first was a blurred white wall. He groaned and blinked a couple of times until the excessive light stopped hurting his eyes. He realized then that he was in the unmistakable room of a hospital, so he frowned and looked around. There were several vases with flowers on top of a table, a few plain pieces of furniture and a big window from which entered the daylight… And suddenly, Hannibal Lecter materialized at the foot of the bed. He looked tense, with his brow furrowed, and Will’s pulse immediately raced.

“Oh god, you again…?” Will asked, and he realized that his mouth was completely dry, since his voice sounded hoarse.

Will turned to the little table beside the bed and saw a plastic cup with water and a straw. He took a couple of sips and then turned to push the button to call someone. Those small movements felt like he was making a huge effort, and he grimaced with pain.

When he turned again, he saw that Hannibal was beginning to relax, whatever the reason for his distress was, so he went to one of the two armchairs of the room and sat there, sighing and crossing his legs.

Before Will could think of anything to say, his room filled with people; the nurse who got his call; another two nurses that started checking if everything was in place; Jack, who appeared briefly before the nurses ordered him to stay outside… And finally, a doctor.

“Mr. Graham, my name is Joana Maliki, I will be your doctor,” the woman said, while she approached him and started checking his eyes with a little flashlight. “How are you feeling?” she asked, and the only nurse that remained there went outside.

“I am… confused. And in pain,” he admitted.

“Both of those things are completely normal. Can you tell me your name, year of birth and your current employment?”

He had to repress a laugh, since that reminded him of what Hannibal used to make him say when he had the blackouts.

“My name is Will Graham. I was born in 1981, and I work for the FBI as a special agent.”

“Very good,” she told him like he was a child who was giving the right answers to his teacher, and she wrote something down on a notepad. “Now, can you tell me what’s the last thing you remember?”

He turned around a little bit, enough to see Hannibal out of the corner of his eye. He was still sitting in the armchair, observing everything.

“I… I don’t know. I went to investigate a crime scene,” he said, remembering the things as he talked. “And… I went back to my house, because I didn’t feel well. Then… nothing else, I think.”

He really didn’t recall anything more, but he knew that something had happened to him, something he couldn’t quite remember. And he knew that Hannibal had been there…

“That was two days ago, Mr. Graham,” she told him, and Will felt his stomach churning. “You had a seizure. It was mild, but it could’ve been much worse if you hadn’t reached the hospital so quickly, even though we don’t fully understand how you were able to come on your own… But it’s completely understandable that you don’t remember much.”

“I don’t…” Will assured her, shaking his head, still trying to understand the seizure part.

“It’s okay. Now, Mr. Graham, do you know why you had the seizure…?”

Will closed his eyes for a second and swallowed. He knew something had been happening to him, but he had thought that he was simply losing his mind…

“No, I don’t know,” he finally said.

“Have you been experiencing strong headaches, fever, confusion or even blackouts…?” Will nodded slightly, and the doctor gave him a sympathetic look. “You have encephalitis, Mr. Graham. Are you familiar with the term?” she asked him, and he shook his head, because he had a vague idea based on the word, but he didn’t really know. “It’s an acute inflammation of the brain. It causes the patient, you in this case, to experience all the things I just listed. I don’t know how long you’ve had it, but based on the inflammation it seems that it wasn’t exactly recent. You _should_ have gone to a doctor, Mr. Graham… You could’ve ended up having severe brain damage.”

He looked away for a second, but in that moment, he felt strangely calm… He had been close to dying according to what the doctor was saying, but he finally _knew_ what had been happening to him. And it felt like a relief.

The doctor then told him that he had been heavily sedated, since they had found him in a pretty bad shape. He would have to remain a few more days on the hospital, even though the encephalitis was already beginning to be stabilized and it was very easy to treat, since it only required rest and antibiotics, along with an occasional check-up.

When he finished telling him all that, she seemed to doubt for a second, and then she pointed at his shoulder.

“One more thing. We… also found some recent injuries. They were already treated, but we will have to keep an eye on the shoulder one while you’re here.”

“Oh, okay. I… just had an accident,” Will explained, hoping they hadn’t told Jack, and the doctor nodded.

When she finally left, he didn’t even have a few minutes to rest, because Jack entered the room right after the doctor. Will sat up a little, trying to find a comfortable position, but the bed and the shoulder wound made it pretty difficult.

“Hey, Jack,” he greeted him, unsure of what else to say.

“Hey, Jack?” he asked, standing at the feet of the bed. Will knew then that he was mad at him. “Do you have any idea of…?”

Jack stopped talking and seemed to rethink what he was going to say.

“How could you not tell anyone? How could you not go to the doctor the _minute_ you felt unwell?” he asked him, and Will couldn’t help to chuckle a little.

“Come on, Jack. If I went to the doctor the moment I started feeling unwell, I wouldn’t have been able to do the job. And you _needed_ me.”

“But not like this! This wasn’t a _mild_ discomfort, wasn’t it? According to what they told us, you had to be feeling sick for months. _Months_ , Will.”

He just nodded a little, since he couldn’t deny anything, and he felt pretty tired in that moment.

“Look… You just woke up, so I’ll leave this conversation for another day,” Jack said, running a hand through his face, and he seemed to relax a bit.

He left his jacket on the chair next to the table full of flowers, and rested his weight from one leg to the other.

“How are you feeling right now?” he asked him, in a much softer voice.

“Honestly? Tired, aching, confused…”

Jack nodded. Will saw that he seemed like he wanted to ask him something, and he finally did after a while.

“Do you remember how you got here, to the hospital?”

“No… The doctor asked me the same, why?”

“She didn’t tell you?” he asked, and Will shook his head.

“Will, you had had a seizure,” he said, as if that was all the explanation he needed. “A nurse saw you walking through the doors, and then you collapsed on the floor, just like that. They don’t understand how you got here on your own, driving your car… But they said that if you hadn’t come, it could’ve been way more serious.”

Will frowned, and he tried to remember something, but everything was black…

“Anyway, don’t think about that now,” he told him, waving a hand, and Will was about to tell him that _he_ had brought up the subject, but he didn’t.

They fell silent for a few seconds, and Will was about to ask him about the case, when Jack seemed to remember something.

“You know what? Something even weirder happened yesterday.”

“Weirder than me driving after a seizure?” he asked, trying to joke a little to lighten the mood.

“Well, you tell me. Guess who called asking about you?”

Will tried to think, and the first name that came to his mind was Abigail’s, but he didn’t know why that would be weird. He finally shrugged, giving up.

“Who?”

“The Chesapeake Ripper.”

He grabbed the sheets and turned around quickly without being able to help it… But Hannibal wasn’t in the armchair anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Will finally knows about Hannibal AND about the encephalitis! I know, it was about time, after ten chapters! Anyway, this marks the beginning of the "second" part of the fic (which does NOT mean it's the halfway point, I'm still not entirely sure how long this will turn out to be), I'm so excited for you guys to read the next chapters! :)
> 
> Okay, a couple of things:
> 
> * I did a little research on what on earth did Hannibal do on the episode where he does the thing with the phone, and supposedly it's called switch-hook dialing. Now, I obviously don't know how to do it, but I did what I could with what I read on the internet about that and about how Hannibal Lecter did it on the Manhunter film. Anyway, I hope it makes sense!
> 
> * I'm obviously not a medical expert, so if there are any inconsistencies (there probably are), I'm sorry! 
> 
> Aaaand, no songs in this chapter!  
> Hope you enjoyed it!! :)


	11. Eleven

“Did you just say…?”

“Yes.”

Will’s heart was beating fast inside his chest, so he frowned and swallowed the lump on his throat, trying to find the words.

“ _The_ Chesapeake Reaper? Hannibal Lecter…?”

Jack nodded twice, and then he circled the bed and sat on the chair right beside him.

“Believe me, I reacted the same way…”

_I doubt it,_ Will thought, letting out a contained breath.

“Do you… know him someway? Did you interview him or something? I don’t recall reading anything on your record, but…”

“No, I- I don’t…”

Will was trying to focus on Jack’s questions, but his head was repeating the same thing over and over, stuck; Hannibal _was_ real. _Everything_ had been real. He had already known, but hearing it from someone else truly confirmed it, and he didn’t even know how to react.

Was he supposed to be scared because he had been sharing his life and his mind with the known serial killer? Or was he supposed to be glad because that meant he hadn’t been hallucinating the entire thing and losing his mind…?

“What… what exactly did he…?” he tried to ask, but the ideas went by his mind too quickly to focus on any of them. Fortunately, Jack understood what he meant.

“He called the FBI offices yesterday. Apparently they granted him permission on Baltimore, but since it was an odd request, Chilton himself supervised the call,” he explained, and Will’s upper lip twitched a little at the thought of Chilton at the other side of the glass, watching while Hannibal made the call, not giving him any privacy. “He called and asked to talk to Will Graham. They told him you were indisposed, so he asked about your condition, like he somehow knew you were… Well, you know.”

“Sick?” Will guessed, and Jack pursed his lips together, not wanting to say it himself.

“Alana thinks he knows about you through the article Freddie Lounds wrote,” he said, and Will nodded, absently. He supposed that made sense for them.

Will sighed and let his head fall on the pillow. He felt tired, even though he apparently had slept during two whole days, missing even the New Year.

Jack spent a couple more hours with him, telling him the few things he had missed, and about the case, while he discreetly tried to ask him if he had seen anything on the crime scene before having the seizure. He told him he didn’t remember, and if he had seen anything, he probably had forgotten with the seizure. After a while, Jack excused himself and told him he would return the next day to see how he was doing.

But the following day, the first to visit him on the morning wasn’t Jack, but Alana. She entered the room with a serious expression and stared at him, crossing her arms. Will’s bed was adjusted so he would be sitting instead of lying down, but he still sat up a bit, grunting a little when the shoulder sent him a wave of pain.

“Why am I sensing that you’re mad at me?” he asked her, even though he knew very well the reason for it.

“You told me you were fine,” she said, and Will couldn’t help to smile a little, even though the situation was far from being funny.

“I told you I was as good as I could.”

“Well, that changes everything, _forgive me_ for not understanding you correctly,” she said with sarcasm.

“Alana… it wasn’t your fault,” he told her, more serious, because it was true. He was the one who had made the decision of not asking for anybody’s help. He couldn’t even blame Hannibal for that, even if he had made the decision easier because it was convenient for him.

“Oh, but it _is_ my fault, because I was the one who approved your return to the field, remember? I _believed_ you when you told me you would come to me the moment you felt something was off…”

He just looked at her, because he didn’t know what else to say. After a couple of seconds, Alana sighed and her expression seemed to ease a little bit.

“How are my dogs?” he asked her then, and she shook her head a little, as if she couldn’t believe he was bringing up that subject in that moment.

Jack had told him that Alana had offered to go take care of them the moment she knew he was in the hospital.

“They’re fine. I went by your house this morning, and I’ll go back later,” she explained. “They really miss you.”

“Thank you, Alana. Really,” he said, meaning every word.

“It’s nothing,” she said, and then she finally uncrossed her arms and sighed. “There’s someone here who wants to see you. But if you don’t feel well for a social visit…”

“No, I’m… I’m fine,” he assured her. He felt a little groggy because of the drugs they were giving him, but otherwise he felt good.

Alana nodded and then she went out for a moment, and when the door opened again, Abigail entered on the room. Will gave her a wide smile, genuinely happy to see her, and she went to him to give him a little hug.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Alana said, and she went out of the room.

“How are you?” Will asked her when she sat on the chair by the bed, and she smiled a little.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

“Well…”

They both laughed and then she tucked her hair behind her ear. She wasn’t wearing her usual scarf, so he saw the thin scar on her skin, and he couldn’t help to feel a shiver.

“I’m fine. What about you?” she asked him, knitting her brow with concern.

“I’m okay…” he said out of habit, and then he rolled his eyes a little. “I’m better now. Besides, they’re giving me a lot of free drugs here,” he joked, and Abigail smiled for a second, but then she looked down.

“You scared us, you know? When Alana told me yesterday, I…”

“Hey, I’m fine,” he assured her again. “Really. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

She smiled again, and that time she kept it. They fell silent for a moment, and then Abigail seemed to remember something.

“Can I ask you something…?”

“Sure,” he told her.

She pursed her lips together, and then her smile turned impish.

“When we went to that park on Baltimore, you told me that you had a friend who was in prison,” she said, and Will nodded.

He remembered the conversation and felt his stomach clenching a little. It seemed like it had happened a lifetime ago, but it couldn’t have been more than two months ago. And still, everything was _so_ different.

“Is your friend… The Chesapeake Ripper?” she asked in a low voice and raising her eyebrows a little. He frowned. “ I just… I overheard Alana talking to someone, sorry.”

He laughed in that moment, and it surprised both of them.

“So you overheard Alana…” he said, and Abigail lowered her gaze. “No, don’t worry, it’s okay. I… I just don’t know what to say to you, honestly,” Will said, even though that basically confirmed it.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me…”

He looked at her, and then raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe I’ll tell you some day, okay?” he asked, and she smiled again. “Will you keep my secret?”

“You kept mine… Of course,” Abigail nodded.

Will then leaned against the pillow because his shoulder was starting to hurt a little in spite of the drugs. It was a big risk confiding Abigail that secret, because if she happened to tell someone by accident, there would be a million questions he didn’t even know how to answer.

After Alana and Abigail left, Jack went by as promised, and he informed him that there still weren’t any progress in the case, and he couldn’t help to let out a sigh of relief when he wasn’t looking.

Will spent two days more on the hospital, and he hated every single hour there. He despised hospitals, and especially being hospitalized. So when on Tuesday his doctor went by to check up on him and told him that he would be discharged that very same day, he almost jumped out of bed.

“You will have to come for a check-up next week, and depending on how you’re doing we will see when the next appointment will be,” she explained to him while she signed the papers that would allow him to get out of there. “And Mr. Graham… _Please_ come if you sense something is wrong,” she told him, giving him a serious look.

Will nodded, and that time, he actually meant it.

After he got dressed and collected the few things he had there, he finally went out and found that Jack was waiting for him outside the building.

“What about my car?” Will asked while getting in Jack’s.

“We took it to your house,” he explained, and he began driving.

Will wanted to be alone more than anything in the world, but he still was glad Jack was giving him a ride, since the shoulder was hurting a lot that morning.

“Do you want a cup of coffee, or… something else?” Will asked him when they got to his house, but Jack shook his head much to his relief.

“No, thanks, I’ve got to go back to Quantico,” he said, and Will nodded. He was going to open the car’s door when Jack talked again. “Will, you… just call me or Alana if you need something, okay?”

He nodded again, and then he went out. He waited until Jack’s car disappeared through the road, and then he let out a long breath he had been holding. When he opened the door to his house, the dogs greeted him and he knelt to hug each and every one of them, truly happy to see them. He had missed them more than he had thought, even though it had been only a few days for him.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” he said smiling when they started climbing him and licking his face.

Will let the door open so they could go out, and then went inside the house. The last memories before the seizure came to him like a punch. He looked at the corner of the room where he had seen Garret Jacob Hobbs, and then he turned to his side, where Hannibal had stood, telling him there was nobody there…

Will hadn’t seen him since the first day he had woken up in the hospital. For some reason, the other had disappeared and hadn’t come back. He was glad for that, because he didn’t want to have to face him being there, in a hospital bed with the nurses coming in and out all the time. But now he was there, and he couldn’t deny himself some things: the first, he needed to look at him in the face now that he knew that he was real. The second, he needed answers. And the third… he didn’t want to admit it, but somehow, he had missed his presence, even though he hadn’t _wanted_ to see him.

Once all the dogs were inside, he closed the main door, and then he stood in the middle of his living room, unsure of what to do.

“Hannibal?” he called him, and he felt a little ridiculous, because it looked like he was invoking a spirit.

But he didn’t appear. Will clenched his jaw and then tried to think about the many times he had materialized. He was sure that most of those times it had been Hannibal who had gone to him, but there had been other times when he thought it had been the other way around, like when he had had nightmares… And then he remembered the first time it had happened: when he had killed Garret Jacob Hobbs. So maybe that was what triggered it, being emotionally unstable.

Will closed his eyes, took a long breath, and allowed himself to go through the deepest corners of his mind. It wasn’t long until he saw in his head the images of some of the many cases he had investigated. He saw himself strangling a man, stabbing a woman, cutting open a family, drowning them, setting them on fire, shooting them…

“Will.”

Will opened his eyes and fell on his knees, gasping for air. He was shaking, because it had been like he had opened the door that contained everything he usually kept locked in the basement of his mind. He looked up when he could control the shaking, and he saw that he was in Baltimore, and Hannibal was standing in front of him.

“That’s not necessary, you know?”

Hannibal crouched in front of him, and they looked at each other while Will caught his breath.

“You just have to concentrate,” he explained him. “Focus on us, and on your house, and the connection will do the rest.”

Will closed his eyes and did what he told him. He thought of Hannibal and of his house, and when he noticed the light change in the air, he opened his eyes again. He was kneeling on his living room, and Hannibal was already on his feet. He offered him his hand to help him get up, but he ignored it and stood up on his own. Before saying anything else, he went to the kitchen and served himself a glass of whiskey, because he was going to need it.

“You look much better,” he heard Hannibal say from the living room.

Will sipped from the glass and then turned around. He had too many questions and things he wanted to say to him, but he had to begin with something, so he started with something simple.

“You called the FBI asking about me.”

Hannibal sighed a little and then he sat on his usual couch. Will took the glass and the bottle of whiskey with him to the living room and sat on the other couch.

“Yes,” he told him after a moment, even though it hadn’t been a question.

“Why?”

Hannibal tilted his head a little, like he was considering whether to answer or not.

“I was worried about you.”

Will sipped from the whiskey again.

“Worried,” Will repeated, and then he smiled bitterly. “You could have appeared right beside me…”

“They had you heavily sedated for two days. I… couldn’t reach you,” he explained to him, and then Will considered whether to believe him or not.

He had lied to him about so many things, but what did he get out of lying about that? What possible benefit could Hannibal Lecter get from calling the FBI offices asking about him?

“I am telling you the truth, Will,” he said then, guessing his thoughts.

“Yeah? Well, how can I tell? You have lied about… _everything_ ,” Will told him, and in that moment he felt _so_ angry. He realized then that he had been holding it back since he had woken up in the hospital.

“Not about everything.”

“Excuse me?”

“I tried telling you the truth and you didn’t believe me,” Hannibal told him, and it almost sounded like a reprimand.

Will laughed a little, and nodded.

“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s right. You told me the truth after _months_ of lying, after using and manipulating me… And then you sent someone to kill me because I didn’t believe you. _Forgive_ me, please,” he said, ironically.

Hannibal licked his lips and leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I didn’t send him to kill you.”

“Allow me to be a little skeptical…”

“I was there to help you, wasn’t I? I needed you to believe me, and you did after that.”

They fell silent for a few seconds, and then Hannibal leaned back on the couch.

“I suppose you have questions about everything,” Hannibal told him then, and Will furrowed his forehead.

“Like a million of them.”

He looked at Hannibal again and held his gaze. He had had a few days on the hospital to finally accept that he was real, but looking at him he still couldn’t understand how it was even possible.

“If this is real, then what are you, what are we? What… is this?” he asked after a pause.

“I don’t really know. I only know that we share this connection.”

“You don’t _know_? That’s it?”

“I wasn’t that interested in how or why it was happening. I was more curious about what we could do with it.”

“You mean like using me to kill people while being imprisoned,” he said, and he couldn’t help to sound more wounded than angry.

“Like that,” Hannibal said, flatly, and Will shook his head a little.

“You’re not even going to try to excuse yourself?” he asked him, and Hannibal tilted his chin a little.

“I am sorry for having to hide it from you, and for the pain it caused you… But I’m not sorry for what I did.”

“After all, you _are_ Hannibal Lecter…” Will whispered.

Hannibal smiled a little, for the first time since he had seen him, and Will couldn’t help to do the same, even if it wasn’t sincere.

“Did you drive me to the hospital? After the seizure,” Will specified, because he had figured out it should’ve been him while he was in the hospital. He doubted he had gotten into a car after something like that and drove an hour under the snow without having an accident.

“Yes,” Hannibal said, plainly.

“Why?”

“Why wouldn’t I do it?”

“Well, you didn’t care at all about my well-being before, I think that’s abundantly clear,” Will said, and then he said out loud what he had been thinking. “Is it because I’m your only means of escaping those four walls…?”

Will feared the answer, because he wanted to hate Hannibal, although for some reason he couldn’t entirely do it. Maybe he would be able to hate him if he found out that he had just been playing with him, that even though everything had really happened, it hadn’t been _real_ for him. But Hannibal didn’t say anything, and Will knew that he didn’t even know the answer to that question. Instead, he got up avoiding his gaze and went to the kitchen, where he took a glass and poured himself from the whiskey when he came back to the couch.

Will leaned forward and ran a hand through his jaw, sighing.

“I still can’t believe that everything was real…” he said out loud. “All the breakfasts, the meals, all that time we spent together… Was that only because you were bored?”

“I happened to find joy in your company. Wouldn’t you say the same?”

“Joy?” he asked, and he chuckled. “Sure, your company brought me an immense joy. So much that it put me in the hospital.”

“I don’t think I can be blamed for your encephalitis, Will…”

“But you knew, didn’t you?” Will asked, and Hannibal just sipped from the glass, so he knew he was right. “You knew and you didn’t tell me, because it suited you. Because then I wouldn’t be so easy to control; no more fevers, and you wouldn’t be able to do your little escapades.”

Hannibal didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. They both knew it.

In that moment, Will opened his mouth to ask him another thing, but he quickly regretted it. He closed his eyes and he remembered the two times he had kissed him, and he felt _so_ hurt and embarrassed. He now had to face the fact that he had let himself get so close to someone to wanting to kiss him and to _actually_ kiss him… He had thought that he was a hallucination, but it had never felt like that, it had felt _real_. How could he have been such an idiot? How could he have let his guard down like that…?

He tried to erase that thought from his mind before Hannibal could see it, but when he opened his eyes, he knew that it was probably too late.

“Is there something else you want to ask me…?”

Will shook his head a little and he bit his lower lip, trying to fight all the memories that were starting to crowd in inside his mind. Will _wanted_ to know, but he was afraid of the answer, so he didn’t ask. He let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his jaw again. In that moment, he realized that he knew exactly what he had to do, and he felt at ease.

“We are conjoined, I know that now,” Will said, and he smiled with sadness. “I am curious whether either of us can survive separation.”

Hannibal smiled a little too, and he leaned forwards to leave the glass of whiskey on the wooden table.

“I don’t think you have to wonder.”

“Oh, but I don’t want to wonder… I want to _know_. You used me to kill people with my body, without me being aware of it. You lied to me about the encephalitis, you manipulated me, and I could go on and on…” he listed, and Hannibal tilted his head, probably not sure of where he was going with that. “I want you to go…”

Hannibal frowned, and Will felt the exact moment in which his heart skipped a beat, so he closed his eyes for a second, trying not to let Hannibal’s emotions affect his own.

“Will-“

“I am not going to miss you. I’m not going to find you. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to feel you, and I don’t want to think about you anymore.”

“You _know_ that’s not possible,” he said, trying to remain calm, but Will could feel that he wasn’t calm at all.

“I don’t care…”

Hannibal looked displeased, but Will just did what he had told him; he concentrated on the thought that he wanted Hannibal gone, out of his living room, out of his life… and Hannibal disappeared.

****

_When Hannibal found himself back in his room, he closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. Then, he went to his bed and sat at the edge._

_The previous days, all he had done had been waiting. Waiting until he had known something about Will, waiting and resisting the urge to go see him to the hospital, waiting until he had come to him… It seemed like now he was going to have to wait a bit longer, but much to his surprise, he wasn’t irritated. All he felt was a little sadness, but he wasn’t sure if that was his or Will’s. Nevertheless, he knew it was impossible that Will would go through with what he was trying to do. They couldn’t be apart, not when they were so merged into each other’s lives._

_So all he had to do was be patient and wait… Wait until Will realized it for himself._

When he went out of the shower, he fed the dogs, lit the fireplace, put on some music and then sat on his couch. And then he let out a long sigh, because it felt almost like home. _Almost_.

He was trying not to listen to that part of his mind that was replaying the conversation he had had with Hannibal, because it was the same part of his mind that, during his stay on the hospital and since he had casted him out that morning, constantly reminded him that there was something missing, something that felt like it didn’t quite fit. Will had meant it when he had told him that he didn’t want to think about him… But he knew it wasn’t going to be easy, since everywhere he looked, he could see the afterimages of Hannibal; of him cooking on the kitchen, of them eating dinner on the table, of them watching television, of them lying on the bed... There wasn’t a single spot on his house that didn’t remind him of Hannibal.

But the worst part was that now he had to reconsider everything is his mind, every single thing that had happened on the previous months. Because he had lived all those things thinking he wasn’t real, that he was just a product of his imagination. But now he knew that it had been Hannibal the one who had saved Abigail’s life, that he had saved his life too, even though he had also been the one who had endangered it. He now had to face the fact that he had _lived_ with him, he had eaten with him, slept next to him, touched and even kissed him… How could he _not_ think about that every second he was there?

Will closed the book he had taken from his bookshelves, because it was clear that he wasn’t going to be able to focus on the words, and left it aside. He looked at the couch in front of him, empty, and he closed his eyes. He _had_ to stay strong. He wanted him out of his life, so what he had to remember was how he had used him, how what he had thought were nightmares, had been in fact Hannibal killing people with his body. How he had lied to him until it wasn’t convenient for him anymore… He _had_ to keep that in mind.

Will went to bed early that day after taking a quick dinner and the pills the doctor had prescribed him, and that night he had nightmares. He didn’t have fever anymore, but the dreams were his; the encephalitis hadn’t caused them, it had just fueled them. So that night, without the drugs from the hospital that helped him sleep, he saw himself killing victims from past cases, and he woke up gasping and soaked in sweat. He didn’t have the strength to change his sheets in the middle of the night, so he put a towel over the mattress and lay down, blocking the little voice in his head that told him that there was something that usually helped him sleep when he had bad dreams.

The next day, he spent the day trying to do as many things as he could so he wouldn’t have time to think. He walked the dogs so many times that they ended up not wanting to go outside anymore, he cleaned the entire house, put loads of clothes that weren’t completely dirty, organized all his papers, books and drawers, and made a couple of meals. When he finished on the afternoon, he realized he didn’t have anything else to do and it had only been one day.

The university had given him indefinite time to recuperate, and they had actually told him they wouldn’t allow him to work until he was fully recovered, which depended completely on his doctor’s reports. Jack hadn’t told him anything, but he knew he would give him space to think about what he wanted to do unless they had a really difficult case. So he had been only one day back at his house without work, and he already could feel his skin itching, and his mind working too fast. He knew that the real reason for that wasn’t being unoccupied, but he buried that thought in a corner of his mind before it could take form.

That night, he had nightmares again, and he woke up tired, but considering how tired he had felt the previous months, he knew that it could be much worse.

That day, he decided to visit Abigail, and he took her shopping to a mall in Baltimore, so they would both take their minds off everything. It made him really happy to see her behaving like a normal eighteen-year-old girl, trying on clothes both of them knew she would never wear and laughing at seeing Will’s reaction when she went out of the fitting room with a ridiculous outfit. She ended up choosing a few things that Will bought as a gift, and even he bought a few things for himself.

“Will?” she called him when they were eating an ice cream, and he blinked a couple of times.

He had been staring off into space and he didn’t even know for how long. They had eaten in a burgers place, and he couldn’t have stopped his mind from wandering to the day when he had taken Abigail to the park in Baltimore, and Hannibal had begged him not to eat the burger. He now knew why, of course; through their connection, sometimes he felt what Hannibal was feeling, he heard what he was hearing, he tasted what he was tasting… So it was natural that Hannibal did so, too. It was a weird thought, knowing that Hannibal Lecter had begged him not to eat junk food, but he had fed Will human meat…

Will cleared his throat, trying to get him out of his mind as he had successfully done almost all day.

“Sorry, I was thinking… about something,” and apologized, and he took a spoonful of his ice cream.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked, playing a little with the plastic spoon.

“No, why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, you seem absent-minded. And… kind of sad,” she said, shrugging, and Will observed her for a second with his eyebrows raised. He sometimes forgot how perceptive she could be. He was used to read people, but not to having people read him.

“I’m sorry. I just… kind of had an argument with someone,” Will said, simplifying the matter so much, he could’ve laughed at himself.

Abigail looked at both of their sides, as if she was making sure there were no costumers on the tables around them, and then she leaned forwards.

“Your _friend_?” she asked in a whisper, and he smiled a little.

“Yeah, my… my friend.”

He felt a pang of pain at saying that word, and he had to take a deep breath to ease the lump that had suddenly appeared on his throat.

“Did he do something? I mean… apart from what he did when he was out of prison,” she said, and he frowned a little. “I did a little research,” she shrugged.

Will smiled a little and shook his head, but he was more amused than worried.

“Yeah, he… He did something that I don’t think I can forgive. That I don’t _want_ to forgive,” he rectified, looking down.

Abigail leaned back and they continued eating their ice cream in silence.

“It sounds to me like you miss him,” she said in that moment, and he looked at her again. She had a sad look in her eyes. “You know, sometimes we don’t get to choose if we care for someone or not… Even if they do horrible things.”

She pursed her lips together and then she lowered her gaze. Will _knew_ that she wasn’t talking about him and Hannibal, but about her father. And still, he felt his pain combined with Abigail’s inside him, and he shivered a little.

When he left her at the facility, he promised he would visit her again in a few days, since he always liked seeing her, and he would probably need the distraction.

The rest of the week went by too slowly, and he kept having bad dreams almost every night, although without the strong headaches and high fevers that he had had before. But around halfway of the following week, he began to feel the effects of sleep deprivation. He started feeling almost as tired as he had been the previous months, and he started losing a little control over the focus he had to maintain to keep away from Hannibal. One day, he heard a feminine voice talking and he jumped out of the couch, looking at the TV that was turned off, only to realize that he was slipping towards Hannibal, and that it probably was one of the nurses from the Hospital. He quickly stopped it, feeling his heart hammering on his chest. Another time, he suddenly smelled a cooked fish, and he looked down at his salad, frowning, but hen he understood and shook his head, focusing again. But most of them were little details, like hearing the charcoal scraping the paper, or the click the door of the cell when someone came in or out, or having a sudden unpleasant feeling and knowing it was all coming from ‘the other side’. Still, he kept fighting against it, and he kept telling himself that it would pass, that he would stop feeling it with time…

But _how_ could he be sure? How could he convince himself of that when he felt an empty space inside him every time he looked at the couch in front of him? How could he begin to believe that when he didn’t want to admit it, but he missed him more than he could ever understand? He still felt _so_ angry with him it made him shake with rage whenever he thought about him, but the most powerful thing he felt wasn’t the anger, or the pain, or the betrayal… He _missed_ Hannibal Lecter, and it wasn’t something mild, he felt it in every single fiber of his body. Maybe he _had_ lost his mind because of the encephalitis, but he was trying and trying, and he just couldn’t stop missing him.

When he went to the appointment with Doctor Maliki that week, he tried to be as decent as he could, but there was no way of hiding the bags under his eyes, or the yellowish color of his cheek, that was almost healed by then, but gave him a pretty bad appearance.

“You don’t look exactly good. Are you sleeping enough, Mr. Graham?” she asked him, looking at him with her brow furrowed.

“Well... not really,” he confessed, uncomfortable in the office chair. “But I don’t think it has anything to do with the encephalitis. It’s… a collateral effect of my job.”

“Well, you’re not working right now, and I won’t approve your return to it until I see that you’re well enough. Why don’t you try to relax a little? Do something that you like, try new hobbies.”

He smiled and nodded. _If only it was that easy_ , he thought, but he didn’t say it out loud.

“I’ll try my best, doctor.”

The next day, he followed her advice and he went fishing to one of the nearest lakes from his house. It was freezing, so he had to wear so many layers of clothes he could barely move, but he was determined to go. It had been too long since he had gone fishing, apart from when he had gone with Jack to the lake by the cabins, and they hadn’t kept the fish there, so it wasn’t the same. He stayed out there on the frozen lake the entire morning, and when he came back with three trouts, he could barely move his hands, but he was content. He froze two of the fish and prepared the third one for dinner. Then, he went almost straight to bed, because he couldn’t keep his eyes open from the fatigue. That night he didn’t have nightmares, but he still dreamt; he saw Hannibal talking to him, and he felt his hand touching his cheek like he had done after killing Tobias Budge… And then he woke up right when Will leaned to kiss him on the dream. He sat up on the mattress panting, and checked the alarm clock. He saw that it was still 4 am, so he fell back on the bed running a hand through his face… He couldn’t fall asleep again that night.

That weekend he went again to visit Abigail, and they went to take a walk on a different park on Baltimore with a little lake inside, where they fed the ducks, geese and swans that were there. They avoided the elephant in the room, and neither he brought the subject of Hannibal nor her did she ask him again. But after he took her to the facility, he felt the anxiety of having to go back to his house, and the feeling even scared him a little bit. His home had always been his only shelter, the one place he felt completely safe… And now Hannibal had taken that from him, because now everything he felt in his house was his absence.

The following week, Will started to feel like he was breaking again, bit by bit, almost exactly like when he had been sick. He wasn’t sleeping half of what he needed, and he spent the rest of the day trying not to think about Hannibal, which made him think about him automatically. So he was exhausted, irritable and mad, _so_ mad at himself, and at Hannibal, and at the fact that whatever it was that connection they had, he had to be the one sharing it with him, of all human beings.

On the weekend, while he was walking the dogs he suddenly felt like crying, so he started screaming at the top of his lungs in the middle of the woods. The dogs stared at him, and a couple of them even approached him with their tails between their legs, believing they had done something wrong, so he petted them as a way of apologizing. He was _so_ tired of not sleeping and trying to control each of his thoughts so he wouldn’t slip to _him_... He didn’t want to give up, he didn’t want to see him… Or so he kept saying to himself, over and over again, while his mind and body ached to see him, to _feel_ him again beside him.

That night, Will tried to sleep but he woke up gasping after dreaming about him once more, and he felt like he was going to go insane in that exact moment. He rolled over on the bed and looked at the space where Hannibal had appeared so many times and, for a second, he wished he were right there. Will quickly erased that thought from his mind and closed his eyes, letting a tear slip from his eye until it got lost on the pillow. But in that moment, he was aware that he had lost the battle with himself.

When the sun had already risen on the horizon, he went to the door and opened it so the dogs could get out. He thought about making breakfast, but somehow he knew that if he had something to eat in that moment, he would throw up. He closed the door when all the dogs went in, and he stayed in the middle of his living room, with the single thought that had occupied his mind since he had woken up, screaming inside him. He had tried it, he had tried _hard_ , but it had been a lost battle from the beginning.

Will let his arms fall over both of his sides and he closed his eyes. He let all the barriers and walls he had built inside his mind fall, and he imagined himself destroying them brick by brick, going through the other side…

When he opened his eyes, he was in Baltimore, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw him; Hannibal was sitting on his bed, with his back leaned against the wall and a book on his hands. He raised his head the second he appeared, and he tried to maintain his expression, but Will suddenly felt everything amplified, and he _knew_ through their connection that Hannibal was feeling the same as he was.

Will relaxed for the first time in weeks, each and every one of his muscles aching from the tension, and he felt almost like crying with relief.

He didn’t say a word to him. Instead, he walked towards Hannibal’s bed and sat beside him, imitating his posture. In that moment, he knew he was going to fall asleep, so he let his head fall on Hannibal’s shoulder. He felt the other tensing a little with their closeness, but he was already drifting into the unconsciousness.

_When he felt Will’s head touching his shoulder, Hannibal’s breath got caught on his throat. There weren’t many things that caused him that effect, but Will was one of the few. He had waited, and he had endured their time apart as he could, but at last Will had returned to him._

_Hannibal let his head fall against Will’s, and he thought that, even if he saw Will every day forever, he would remember that moment and how he had felt when the waiting had finally come to an end._

****

Will opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times, completely disoriented. He rubbed his eyes with one hand while he sat up slowly. In that moment, he remembered the last thing he had done; going to Hannibal, falling asleep beside him… But he was in his bed then, and Hannibal was definitely not there with him. He sat at the edge and saw in the alarm clock that it was way past midday. He had slept for hours, but it didn’t surprise him; he had about three weeks of sleep to make up for.

Will stoop up from of bed, put on a pajama pants and then went to the bathroom. After that, he went to the living room, and he found a scene that was too familiar, but that still shocked him: Hannibal was in the kitchen, cooking.

He immediately felt mad at the sight of him, and the other turned to look at him.

“Morning. Although I believe afternoon would be more appropriate,” he greeted him, and he continued moving whatever was on the frying pan. “Did you know that you’re _completely_ out of oregano?”

“Stop,” Will whispered, but the other didn’t seem to hear him.

“You could set the table while I-“

“Stop!” he said, louder, and that time he did. “ _Don’t_ do that.”

“Preparing lunch?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, and that made Will even angrier.

Will clenched his jaw and took a couple of steps until he reached the table, where he leaned with both hands.

“Don’t pretend like nothing’s going on. Like everything’s okay… Just don’t.”

He let the anger stain his voice, and when he raised his gaze, Hannibal was in the exact same position, with the exception of the frying pan, that he had raised from the cooktop.

“Okay,” he finally said after a couple of seconds. “May I keep cooking?”

Will closed his eyes, annoyed by his attitude, but he still nodded. Then, he unwillingly set the table, and they both sat when the meal was ready. Hannibal had prepared pasta with clams, shrimps and vegetables: no meat. He looked at him and Hannibal gave him a little smile, so he rolled his eyes and started eating. And even though he still felt the anger inside him, he felt at ease in his living room for the first time in weeks.

“When is your next doctor’s appointment?” Hannibal asked him when he stood up to take the plates to the counter after they finished.

Will took his own plate and glass to the sink, and then he took a step backwards when Hannibal took control of the dishwasher.

“Next Wednesday,” he answered, pocketing his hands.

“Do you think she’ll let you go back to work?”

“I’m not even sure _I_ want to go back to work,” he confessed to him.

It was something he had been thinking about since he had been in the hospital. He wanted to go back to teach his classes, but the field work was something else. The first time he had retired had been because a case’s suspect had physically hurt him. But that time was something different altogether.

“Maybe you should leave your work with Jack. At least for a while,” Hannibal said, closing the dishwasher.

“Then nobody would catch the people like you,” he told him looking at him right in the eyes for a few seconds, and then he turned around and went to the living room, where he sat on his couch. “A lot of lives would be lost…”

Hannibal followed him and sat in front of him.

“I don’t care about the lives you save, Will. I care about yours,” he told him, and Will glared at him.

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

“It’s… just don’t. You don’t care about me, you just care about yourself,” Will said, shaking his head, even though he knew that it wasn’t exactly true.

Hannibal sighed but didn’t answer, and they both looked away.

“What’s going to happen now?” Hannibal finally asked after a couple of minutes, and Will knew that he meant about _them_ , about their situation.

“Nothing’s going to happen. You have invaded my life, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m not sure if I can live with you for the rest of my life… but now I know that I _can’t_ live without you.”

He tried to remain expressionless while he said that, but a twitch on his eyebrow betrayed him, so he looked down.

“I’m sure we will find a way. You said so yourself, we are conjoined.”

Will ran a finger through his temple, even though his head didn’t hurt, like an unconscious movement. And then he remembered a thought he had had on one of the many nights he had been lying awake on his bed in the previous weeks, and he couldn’t avoid saying it out loud.

“This connection… It’s like we orbit around each other, unable of escaping the force of gravity.”

Will looked at him in that moment, and Hannibal curved his lips in a smile.

“Thank god for gravity, then.”

Will didn’t say anything else, but he swallowed. He didn’t think he could consider their connection as a blessing, exactly… But it didn’t quite feel like a punishment, either. So what was it, then?

****

The following day they were having breakfast just like they had done so many times before, when the dogs started getting nervous and he heard a car approaching the house. He immediately gazed at Hannibal, and at the two sets on the table.

“I’ll take this away, go open the door,” Hannibal told him, standing up and taking his things.

He still wasn’t sure how people would see the scene, now even less than when he had thought that he was a hallucination. People obviously couldn’t see Hannibal, but would they see the abundance of food, the pair of plates and cutlery…? Or was that something that only they saw?

When he went to the door, he first took a look out of the curtain and sighed when he saw Jack’s car, but he still opened the door.

“Morning. Is it too early for a visit?” Jack asked him when he went out of the car, breathing fog in the air.

“No, it’s fine, I was finishing breakfast. Do you want a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.”

He prepared it with Hannibal beside him. He was looking right at Jack, and Will felt a mild displeasure, but he knew it was coming from Hannibal, even though he himself wasn’t exactly delighted with Jack’s visit.

“Here you go,” Will told him, putting the mug on the place where Hannibal had been a few minutes ago, and returning to his seat.

Jack sat right in front of him and took a sip from the coffee.

“This is really good, what brand is it?”

“Oh, it’s just… I grind it myself,” he explained to him, and Hannibal sat on the seat beside him, smiling.

“Well, it’s amazing…” he told him, sipping from it again.

Will finished eating his toast and he suddenly was very aware that he was being watched by two people, so he cleared his throat and sipped from his own mug.

“What brings you here on a Sunday, Jack?”

“I wanted to know how you were doing,” Jack said, and Hannibal snorted a little, probably not believing his words. “So… how are you?”

Will smiled a little at Hannibal’s reaction, and he left the mug on the table.

“I’m doing better, thanks.”

“When’s your next appointment?”

“Next week. On Wednesday.”

“Good. Let me know what she tells you, okay?”

“Sure…” he told him, and they both sipped from their mugs.

He waited for a few seconds, because he knew Jack was dying to ask him about the job… And then, he finally leaned a little forward.

“Will, have you… Have you thought about what you’re going to do? When you’re fully recovered.”

Will leaned backwards on the chair, and he scratched his neck a little while he thought how to say what he wanted to say.

“Jack, I know that you need me, but… I’m not sure if I’ll go back to the field,” he told him.

“Will, I’m aware that it’s still really soon, so you don’t have to give me a definitive answer. Think about it, and right now focus on your recovering, alright?”

He nodded, thinking that it was going to be a little more difficult than that to turn Jack down if he finally decided to stop going into the field.

Jack finished his coffee while he told him about a case they were working, even if Will would’ve preferred not to hear about it, and then he left after a while. Will observed the car disappearing through the road, and he sighed.

“Can I ask you something?” he heard Hannibal ask behind him, and he felt immediately irritated again.

“Has ever stopped you that I grant you permission or not to do something?”

Will turned around closing the door. He knew it was a low blow, but he didn’t care. He _wanted_ to hurt Hannibal, and if words were the only thing he had, so be it. The other remained unaffected, but now Will knew that his comment _had_ hurt him a little. He was starting to notice that, without the encephalitis, he felt everything even stronger than before. With the illness, it had been like everything he received from Hannibal was what fitted through a little door. But now he was seeing, hearing and feeling everything with every single door open.

Will went to the table and started taking everything to the kitchen.

“The reason why you’re thinking about not returning to the field.” Hannibal started saying, following him to the kitchen while he started loading the dishwasher. “Is it because of how the encephalitis and the cases made you feel, or… Is it because of how _the killings_ made you feel?”

Will paused with a mug on his hands, and he left it on the counter before turning around to look at him.

“What?”

“When you saw and felt the murders through the nightmares, when you experienced them… You told me that you felt my delight as yours, entirely,” he reminded him even though Will remembered it very clearly. “Is that what scares you? Going back, getting inside their minds and maybe wanting to stop them some other way that’s not imprisoning them.”

Will looked down for a moment, feeling the rage rising inside him again, like an animal that was growling, prepared to leap. And then, he moved; he grabbed Hannibal by the uniform’s lapels with both hands and pushed him against the fridge. In a matter of seconds, he was over him, panting with rage, while Hannibal didn’t even flinch.

“Why are you so afraid of yourself, Will? Of your mind? Can’t you see how _extraordinary_ it is?”

“You just want me to become like you,” he said, clenching his jaw and pushing him harder against the fridge.

Hannibal frowned for a fraction of a second.

“It’s true that I see a similar mind in you, Will. But at the same time, you are nothing like me.”

Will frowned, confused by his words, but he didn’t care. Whatever he said, he knew that Hannibal would be pleased if Will would kill again. Exactly like he had when he had known how Will had felt killing Garret Jacob Hobbs and how the nightmares had felt, even though it hadn’t been exactly him killing all those murderers.

“All your life, people have told you that you should be afraid of what you really are… If you stopped living so scared of yourself, you’d realize how marvelous your mind is.”

“I wish I could get you out of my life, for good,” he hissed to him, feeling his heart hammering on his chest.

Hannibal just swallowed and stood there, looking at him in the eyes.

Will became aware how close they were, and that inevitably reminded him to when they had been in that very same position a while ago. He had pushed Hannibal against the fridge in a fit of rage, and he had threatened him with a knife. He had been guided and clouded by the fever, but he remembered how he had cut him, how he had felt the knife on Hannibal’s and his own skin, and how much that had confused him…

Will knew that Hannibal was thinking about the same, and he looked at his shoulder… And he moved one of his hands with the grabbed lapel in an abrupt movement to expose Hannibal’s left shoulder. He saw the thin, pink line and his breath got caught in his throat for a second… because that wasn’t supposed to be there. Hannibal _was_ real, and he didn’t exactly understand how the connection worked, but he knew that they were essentially visiting each other with their minds… So how was it possible?

In that moment, he knew through their connection that Hannibal had done it to himself. The mark wasn’t there because Will’s knife had touched his skin, but because he had decided to replicate the wound later.

Will stepped backwards, closing his mind a little and not letting Hannibal’s thoughts go inside anymore. He looked at him in the eyes and the other held his gaze. Will realized then that his anger was gone, replaced by his utter confusion.

_That night, Hannibal was having trouble getting asleep when he sensed Will’s distress. It had been something that he had felt almost every single night when the other had tried to cast him out, but he had remained there, resisting the urge to go to him. But now that they were reunited, he didn’t resist it. He focused on him and appeared on his bed. Will’s face was twitching with a dream, so he leaned on his elbow and touched his arm gently. He immediately woke up with a little jump, looking at him wide-eyed. Hannibal retired his hand and lay down back on the mattress, giving him space._

_He knew that Will needed time to get used to their closeness again. After all, the intimate moments they had shared had been with him believing he wasn’t real. But now he knew the truth, and it would be a while until Will felt comfortable around him again._

_Will stood up and took his shirt off, putting on a new one and then going back to bed. When he lay down again, he did it with his back towards him. In a matter of minutes Will fell asleep again, and Hannibal’s eyelids finally began closing…_

****

“Well, you look much better than you did in our last appointment,” the doctor told him once he sat on the chair in front of her.

“Yeah, I feel better.”

“Was your sleeping problem resolved?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Yes. I… managed to relax a little,” he said, and then pursed his lips.

“I’m glad to hear that. Now, let’s see take a look at this MRI…”

She took the photographs from the envelope, she looked at them and then nodded.

“The inflammation is completely gone, Mr. Graham,” she told him smiling, and he did so too. “I’m going to schedule another appointment for next week, but if everything continues until now, I’ll recommend your return to work. You just have to keep taking your pills, rest, and you’ll be out of danger.”

She stood up, letting him know that the appointment was already finished, so he imitated her and offered her a hand to thank her.

When he went out of the hospital, he thought about going back to his house, but then he changed his mind. He drove to Quantico instead, and hoped that Jack would be in his office, and not out investigating some case. But when he knocked and his door opened, he saw that not only he was there, but also Alana and Frederick Chilton. Will raised his eyebrows, surprised at the scene in front of him.

“Speak of the devil…” he said, smiling a little, and Will frowned. “Come in, we were _just_ talking about you.”

Jack moved aside to let him in, and he did so, even though he was already regretting going there. A reunion of the three of them _and_ they were talking about him? That couldn’t mean anything good.

“Will,” Alana nodded towards him from her chair.

“I heard what happened to you, Mr. Graham. It’s so good to see you well already,” Chilton greeted him, offering his hand.

“Thanks,” he told him, shaking his hand after a second of hesitation.

Jack returned to his seat behind the desk, and gestured him to seat on the empty chair, since Chilton had been standing. He sat, and he suddenly was very aware of how he was completely circled by people. He cleared his throat.

“So… you were talking about me?” he asked, trying to open the conversation.

“We were. Dr. Chilton had… an idea. He decided to run it by me first, but since you’re here…”

Will turned to look at him, thinking _what_ could possibly have occurred to him.

“Well, Mr. Graham… As you already know, I work in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane,” he said, and he sensed the pride on his voice. Will just nodded, so he continued. “And as you also know, one of the many patients we have there is… Hannibal Lecter.”

He immediately felt his stomach turning inside out at the mention, but he kept his face straight. He blocked his mind so he wouldn’t invoke Hannibal unconsciously, since he still didn’t know where that conversation was going, even though he had a slight idea.

“I am aware, yes.”

“When you woke up in the hospital, Jack kindly informed you about Lecter’s call for you, am I right?”

“He did,” he said, looking at Jack briefly.

“He already knows all that, Frederick, why don’t you cut to the chase?” Jack told him, impatient.

Chilton smiled nervously, and Will saw Alana moving on the chair right next to him.

“I was wondering if you would be interested in interviewing Hannibal Lecter.”

Will raised an eyebrow, even though it didn’t really surprised him. It was natural that they were suggesting that, especially Frederick Chilton, who was _so_ eager to get into Hannibal’s mind.

“Interview him?”

“Well, as I’m sure you know, Lecter hasn’t allowed almost anyone to interview him in the three years he’s been in the Hospital. And in the interviews he _has_ to do, he always manages to not tell us anything. But since he apparently is interested in you, we thought that maybe-“

“Not _we_. You, Frederick,” Alana intervened, and Chilton nodded.

“Yes, sorry. _I_ thought that it’s a unique opportunity. And I mean, I’m sure someone like you has to be at least curious.”

“Someone like me?” he asked, frowning and feeling his heart beating faster.

“Well, you studied Lecter, didn’t you?”

“Oh… Yeah, I did,” he said.

Will leaned back on the chair, thinking about it. Going to see Hannibal, _really_ see him… He couldn’t deny that he was curious, obviously, but not for the reason Frederick thought, but because of their connection. But he knew that he couldn’t do it, not in that moment. Not when he was still so angry with him. The only thing he would be able to think if he had Hannibal in front of him would be how to go through the glass to punch him in the face.

“Now, I must tell you that I am completely against this idea,” Alana told him, and he turned to her. “Hannibal Lecter has apparently taken an interest in you, probably after reading the article Freddie Lounds wrote about you, but we must remember who and how this… _man_ is. He wouldn’t tell him anything, he would just have another person to play with,” she said, and then she turned to him with an apologetic look.

“I, for once, agree with Dr. Bloom,” Jack said, and it seemed to surprise Alana. “Apart from the fact that you’re just recovering, I don’t think it’s a good idea. But it’s your choice, of course.”

The three of them looked at him at the same time, and he felt a little uneasy.

“Well… I’ll think about it…” he said, looking at Chilton, “But I don’t think I’ll do it,” he finished, and Alana seemed to relax a little.

“Well, that’s a shame, but I understand,” Chilton told him.

Alana stood up, and she circled Will’s chair from behind it.

“We should go back to the Hospital. Will, it’s good to see that you’re doing well,” she told him, and he nodded.

“Mr. Graham,” he said, offering his hand again.

Will was about to shake his hand again, but then he thought of something. He stood up and, taking the hand he was offering, but he also approached him and gave him a kind of hug, patting him on the back. When he stepped backwards Chilton seemed confused, along with Alana and probably even Jack, even though he couldn’t see him from his perspective. Will cleared his throat, and then sat in the chair again.

“Eh… Okay, we’ll see each other around,” Chilton said, and then they left, closing the door behind them.

“That was… Interesting,” Jack said, raising his eyebrows. “Anyway… You came to see me?”

“Yeah, I did,” Will said, remembering the real reason for his visit. “I had my doctor’s appointment earlier.”

“Right, you said Wednesday,” he said, looking sideways to a calendar he had in a corner of his desk. “What did she tell you?”

“That I’m definitely doing a lot better. She’ll probably recommend my return to work next week.”

“That’s excellent news, Will. I’m glad to hear that.”

He nodded, but then he sighed. What he was going to tell Jack wasn’t exactly easy.

“Yes, they are,” he agreed, and he leaned a little forwards before continuing. “Look, Jack, I’ve been thinking… I really don’t think I’m going to get back to the field, at least for a while. I don’t think I can endure it right now.”

Jack leaned back on his chair, sighing, but after a couple of seconds he nodded, probably knowing there was nothing he could do to convince him in that moment.

“Okay, I understand it. But you know that the door will always be open. And I mean, I can’t promise you that I won’t try to convince you to come back again in the future,” Jack told him, smiling a little.

Will forced a smiled, but he knew that he wasn’t joking. He _knew_ Jack would probably be back, sooner or later.

****

_“I hope I’m not interrupting your lunch, Dr. Lecter. They published your article on this month’s journal,” Frederick Chilton told him, waving a magazine in front of the glass._

_Hannibal was, in fact, eating his lunch, but he put the plastic fork down and stood up behind the table, interlacing his hands behind his back. He had written the article Chilton was mentioning more than two months before, but he knew that sometimes it could take even longer for them to get published, so he had almost forgotten about it since he had written it._

_Chilton approached the tray and left the magazine inside, and while he did that, Hannibal caught a scent; something he hadn’t expected to smell in that moment, and much less, coming from Frederick Chilton. He abandoned his posture and slowly circled the table, raising his head and inhaling. Chilton saw him in that moment and took a step backwards, probably remembering what had happened the last time Hannibal had approached the glass._

_“Lecter, get back!”_

_Hannibal stopped, being aware of what he was doing. He didn’t want to be punished in that moment, so he went back to his position. But he had smelled enough, and he was_ sure _of what the scent was: it was Will’s, although deeper and more powerful than when he was visiting him, and he felt a pang in his chest. That meant two things: the first, Will had been with Chilton, probably that very same morning, and he had been_ close _to him. The second, if it felt that different than when they were together with their minds… That meant that seeing him in person would completely change everything. He would probably feel him more than it was possible, more than he dared to imagine._

_When Chilton was sure that he wasn’t going to move again, he finally pushed the tray to his side of the glass, and then he left without saying another word. Hannibal approached it and took the magazine, but he didn’t feel like reading his own words printed out; his mind was trying to imagine the situation in which Will would have come so close to Chilton, and then he understood… It hadn’t been an accident. He had done it with a purpose: to get a reaction from him._

_Hannibal smiled, feeling proud of Will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so... I may have to start updating every two weeks or something (I'll see). I haven't caught up with what I have already written, but I'm getting close, and the chapters are looong! So I'll let you know for sure on the next week's update. Hope you understand!
> 
> Also, I already thank each and every one of you that take the time to read and leave a comment, but I just wanna say, you don't know how happy it makes me to see that you are reading and enjoying it. This fic already means so much to me for a lot of reasons, and your comments make me truly happy. And not only to the people who comment, but also to those who are taking the time to read this, leave kudos, etc, THANK YOU ♥♥♥
> 
>  
> 
> Okay, songs for the playlist!
> 
> · [Sinking man](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6II3p7fxo8), Of monsters and men  
> · [I'm not calling you a liar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u4iseF_FBn8), Florence + The Machine  
> · [Without You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BRC9joEC3dU), One Two


	12. Twelve

_Will’s scent was something that Hannibal had thought about at length. The first and most noticeable smell was, obviously, the dogs’. Each and every one of their scents were all over Will, pervading him. It had been something a little unpleasant at the beginning, but now he was so used to them that he had found it even pleasing with time._

_But the dogs’ weren’t the only scent. There was the smell that only a house in the middle of the woods provided, the one from a fireplace, of old books and even of gunpowder when he had been practicing on the shooting range. And underneath all that, and at the same time united with all that, there was Will’s own smell; the scent that only belonged to him, the one he had learnt to identify even when Will had just taken a shower and the soap filled his nostrils. Even when he went to take a walk with the dogs and he came back smelling like rain and sweat. Even when his clothes were coated with the smell of firewood and laundry detergent at the same time… Even then, he had learnt to distinguish Will’s. And sensing it on another man, and a man he disliked that much, had been rather unpleasant. But when he had understood that it was exactly what Will had meant, for him to react in some way, he had actually liked it, excited to see that Will was playing with him._

_When Hannibal appeared on Will's living room that afternoon, he felt the immediate and unique warmth that only a fireplace provided. The fire lightened the room, casting moving shadows on the furniture and on Will, who was sitting on his couch with a book on this lap and a glass of whisky on his hand. He raised his gaze when he arrived, but he returned to his reading almost immediately. Or, at least, that’s what he tried, because Hannibal knew he couldn’t focus on the book anymore._

_Hannibal sat on his couch in front of him and smiled in anticipation. He let his mind expand towards him and tasted the whisky on his mouth, so he closed his eyes for a second, savoring the liquor._ __  
  
"I received a visit from Doctor Chilton today," he said, looking at the flames licking the logs.  
  
He saw Will out of the corner of his eye raising his gaze again, not being able to help it.  
  
"Okay," he said, trying to sound uninterested, but he sensed the tone underneath, the tension on his muscles, waiting for him to continue speaking.

 _“I received your message,” Hannibal said, running a finger through his jaw._  
"I don't know what you’re talking about," he said, and Hannibal looked at him for the first time.  
  
Will was trying to keep a straight face, but he could see the menace of a smile on his lips.  
  
"I wonder if you did it with a purpose… Or maybe you just wanted to see what would happen," he guessed.  
  
Will’s lips finally curved upwards, and he took a sip from his glass, probably to hide it. But he had seen it, so Hannibal's smile grew wider. He definitely was enjoying the game.

****

Will woke up and tried to stay in bed, ignoring the sunlight that went through the windows. After all, he was on some sort of vacation, so he might as well make the most of them. He rolled over and stayed face down, hugging the pillow… But not even a couple of minutes later, he heard noise coming from the other room and the dogs moving around, probably wanting to go out. He sighed against the pillow and grunted, and he grudgingly got out of bed. When he went into the living room already changed, Hannibal was setting the table.

Will’s stomach rumbled in response of the amazing smell, but he had other plans in mind, so he started going directly to the door.

“You’re not going to sit and have breakfast?”

He stopped and turned around. Hannibal was holding a tray with heart-shaped pastries, expectant. Will approached him, took one and took a bite from it. He smiled a little while he was chewing it, without looking away from Hannibal, and when he finished he took another pastry and then he turned around, took his coat and went out of the house with the dogs.

Hannibal showed up next to him less than a minute later, probably because, as Will had figured out, they couldn’t get too far away from the other when they were visiting each other. He started walking beside him while Will ate the pastry and the dogs ran around and barked, happy.

“So you’re going to ignore me again?” he asked him.

“I’m not ignoring you,” Will clarified, shaking his head a little without looking at him.

“Is this your retribution, then?”

Will couldn’t help to laugh a little.

“I doubt that you can compare refusing to sit and eat your breakfast with what you did to me,” he told him.

Hannibal fell silent, but Will knew through their connection that he wasn’t _that_ hurt.

“You know, I once killed a man who refused to sit at my table in one of my dinner parties,” Hannibal said in a completely calm tone.

Will stopped walking and finally looked at him raising his eyebrows. The snow crunched under Hannibal’s feet when he turned around with a little smile on his lips.

“He was _very_ rude. He ruined the party by not knowing when to stop drinking. Made everyone feel very uncomfortable.”

“Rude…?” Will repeated, trying to sound shocked, but his lips betrayed him curving a little upwards. For some reason, the idea amused him, even though it shouldn’t.

“The worst kind of people. Whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude…”

Will shook his head for a second, and then he resumed his walk with Hannibal beside him. But when they arrived at the clearing, he suddenly realized something: he had been right all along about Hannibal Lecter. When he had studied him, his theory had been that Hannibal Lecter had mostly killed the people that he considered annoying, or ‘ _bad_ ’, even if most of them didn’t exactly fit into that category according to society’s standards. ‘ _Rude_ ’ was the word he had chosen, but it was the same principle.

While they were there, Will sat under his usual tree, but Hannibal didn’t join him right away. Instead, he found a stick and threw it away with an elegant movement. Harley and Winston ran and tried to take it at the same time. They ended up coming back holding one end of the stick each, and Hannibal took it from them and threw it once again. Will frowned, because he had thought that Hannibal was just throwing the stick for no reason, not playing with the dogs… But once again, he waited for them to come back and he kept throwing it. When he apparently got tired, he finally sat beside him, and the dogs ran away with the stick, trying to take it from each other. Will didn’t say anything, but he looked at him out of the corner of his eye, trying to comprehend what the other was doing. Was that all pretending…? Was he trying to manipulate him by faking an interest for the dogs…?

****

“Okay, here you go.”

Will took the paper the doctor was holding in front of her, and he looked at it. It was the document that officially allowed him to go back to work. He nodded, looking at her.

“Thank you.”

“It’s my job, Will. But now your job will be to _please_ come back if you notice that something is wrong again, okay?” she told him once again.

“Sure, Doctor,” he told her, smiling a little.

He shook her hand and finally walked out of the hospital for what he hoped would be the last visit in a long time.

Will decided to do the same as the last time he had had his check-up and go directly to Quantico, but that time, he went to the university. He talked to the head of his department, and he was visibly pleased to know that he would soon be returning to the job. He informed him that they would still need another week so the substitute teacher could finish what he had started with his students, and Will told him that he understood completely. And besides, he wasn’t _that_ eager to go back to work.

When he was on his way out, he heard a voice coming from the main lecture hall, and he frowned and approached the door. That hall was only used on the graduations, when important people went to give a lecture or when there was a special ceremony. And since it wasn’t the time for a ceremony of any kind, it had to be someone important. He read the sign that there was on the door, and it read “Bedelia Du Maurier PhD, author of ‘ _I am also a We_ ’. An analysis of the Sensates theories.”

The first thing he thought was, why was an author giving a lecture there, on Quantico, when it didn’t look like it had anything to do with criminology? But sometimes they offered their classrooms to other universities, so maybe that was the case. The second thing was that word, _sensates_. It felt like something he had already seen somewhere before, but he couldn’t place it, and he certainly didn’t know what it meant.

Will was about to turn around, but then something stopped him, a sort of hunch that told him that he had to go in… So he went into the hall, not even knowing why. On the center of the stage there was a beautiful woman dressed in a black dress, and her soothing and soft voice immediately captivated him.

“…from the moment they are born. Other people believe the connection would be made later, independently of their age, gender, environment or anything at all. I believe it would be a bit of both: probably the connection is made from the moment they are born, but it wouldn’t have to start in that moment. Perhaps it would be like adolescence, and it would appear as they grow up. Or maybe it would be triggered by an important event in their lives… But what is undeniable is that the subjects’ lives would betremendously affected due to that connection.”

Will went to one of the first rows and sat on the first empty chair he found, without looking away from the woman. Was she talking about…? But no, it couldn’t be.

“I mean, in this hypothetical connection, it’s not only about sharing experiences. It would be about sharing a life, sharing feelings, thoughts… Some say that it would probably be an invading presence, but I personally believe that it wouldn’t feel intruding at all. I think it would end up feeling like an essential and indivisible part of the connected people. Like a limb that would become a part of yourself…”

Will felt his heart beating fast on his chest and he blocked Hannibal out of his mind so he wouldn’t summon him. For some reason, he didn’t want him there, he needed to listen to that alone. Because in that moment he was pretty sure that woman was talking about something related to what was happening to him, about his connection with Hannibal… But how was that possible? She talked like it wasn’t a real thing, and yet she sounded very convinced on her theories… And most of them sounded pretty accurate to him.

“As I say in my book, if two or more people shared that connection, it wouldn’t feel like just an individual anymore… The _I_ would become a _We_.”

She fell silent and everyone burst into applause, which told him he had arrived at the ending of the lecture. He joined the applause when he could react, and then he observed while some people asked her questions. One person asked her when did she think that humans would start having that sort of connection.

“I don’t think we can know that… For all we know, there may be already people having that sort of connection,” she answered with a smile, and a few people laughed. Will felt his heart trying to climb out of his throat.

Another woman asked her, in a very skeptical tone, a few questions trying to dismantle her theories, to which she replied in a polite way, but he was sure that everyone could sense the sharp tone underneath.

When the questions ended, everyone applauded her again, and then they started getting up from their seats. Will had to wait on a side while most of the people that had attended the lecture approached the woman so she would sign their books. He saw her put on a little smile every time someone approached her, and finally, when the last person walked away, he went to her. She looked at him and then at his hands, probably expecting to see a book to sign or a phone to ask her for a picture, but he didn’t haven any of them.

“Interesting lecture,” he said as a greeting, trying not to sound too eager.

“Thank you…” she started saying, and she raised her eyebrows.

“Graham. Will Graham,” he completed for her.

“Are you a reader of the book…?” she asked in the same calm tone she had spoken in during the entire lecture.

“Actually, no, not yet. I recently discovered this… subject,” he said, not sure how to call it. “But I’m _very_ interested on it. The thing is, I arrived a little late, and I was wondering if you would answer some questions that I have about it?”

She was putting her things on a briefcase, so she raised her gaze and tilted her head a little.

“I don’t have the time to attend everyone individually, I’m sure you understand that, Mr…”

“Graham,” he repeated.

“Mr. Graham,” she said, and in that moment she finished collecting her things and closed the briefcase with a loud sound. “Maybe the answers you’re looking for will be in my book.”

She circled him and started walking towards the exit, but he couldn’t just _read_ a book. He needed to talk to someone, to hear the words being pronounced by another person.

“In this connection, would the people’s sensations sometimes get mixed up?” he asked, knowing the answer, and Bedelia stopped and turned around furrowing her brow. “Sounds that the other person listens to and doesn’t know where they come from, sudden scents that don’t come from anywhere near them… _Feelings_ that they know that aren’t theirs, not truly.”

Bedelia half closed her eyes and tilted her head.

“That… is one of the things I believe, yes. I think the sensations would mix among the people who are connected. But I haven’t published that in my book or in any or my articles yet…”

“I told you I haven’t read your book,” Will said, pursing his lips together. “But I really would like to discuss some things, like for example-“

“Mr. Graham, I _really_ have to go,” she said, looking at the watch on her wrist, and she sighed, because she seemed really interested in talking to him after his question. She searched for something on her briefcase, and then she took something out and approached him. “Look, I work in Baltimore as a psychiatrist, this is my office number. Call, make an appointment, and we’ll talk there,” she said, offering him a card.

“Oh, okay,” he quickly said taking the card and looking at it. “Thank you.”

Bedelia nodded and then, after looking at him one last time, she turned around and walked out of the hall, leaving him there with a thousand questions already on his mind.

****

“How did the doctor’s appointment go?”

Will raised his gaze from his laptop and looked at Hannibal, who was offering him a glass of wine. He took it and sipped from it, and the other went back to the kitchen, where he was cooking something.

He hadn’t told him anything about that morning, of course, because of the lecture of Bedelia du Maurier. For some reason, it was something that he didn’t want to share with Hannibal. At least, not until he went to talk to her again. He had called right after the lecture and her assistant had given him an appointment for the following week. He had also thought about buying her book and read it before going to talk to her, but then he thought that Hannibal would see it, and if he didn’t, Will probably would be thinking about it all the time and Hannibal would _know_ through their connection.

“She approved my return to work,” he told him, focusing again on the screen. He had spent an hour replying emails he had been postponing, but he wasn’t even halfway done.

“That’s good news,” Hannibal said.

“Yeah, I guess. I’m going back to the university next week.”

“And… Jack?”

Will knew what he meant. He hadn’t told him either about when he had gone to tell Jack that he definitely wasn’t getting back to the field, because it had been the same day when he had _hugged_ Chilton. He was starting to learn how to conceal the some of the things he didn’t want Hannibal to know, even though most of them just slipped through their connection without him being able to help it.

“I went last week. I told him I wouldn’t go back to the field. At least for now…”

Hannibal appeared again on his vision field, so he raised his gaze. He had a plate with something on his hands, but he couldn’t see the content from his position.

“You know he will probably come back knocking, do you?” he told him, and Will would’ve sworn he even sounded concerned.

“Yeah, I do…” Will said. Someone like Jack _would_ be back, sooner or later. He would have a case that they couldn’t solve, something too important, something too urgent… They _always_ came back.

Hannibal finally moved the plate down so he could see it, interrupting his thoughts. Will raised his eyebrows when he saw that there were two canapés, but he took one of them without asking. The moment he ate it, he knew it was some sort of shellfish or something like that, but it had something that made the flavors mingle and explode in his mouth.

“What is it?” he asked when he swallowed, and he saw that Hannibal had taken the other one.

“Octopus. With a few additions, of course.”

He usually was pretty cryptic about the meals he prepared, except when they were pretty simple for his sake. Will knew that in the past, it had been because some of them had contained his _special_ ingredient, but now he didn’t have any way of getting human meat, so he just made a face to him at his joke, and Hannibal smiled and went back to the kitchen.

Will closed the laptop and rubbed his eyes, tired of staring at the screen. He left it on top of the wooden table and took another sip from the wine. Then, he stood up and went to the kitchen. Hannibal was apparently preparing several things, because he had a ton different meals spread through the counter, some already finished and others that he was making in that moment. They had gone shopping the day before, so he figured that he had bought all of that there.

He observed with curiosity when he took a piece of what looked like a squid, but much smaller, and put in on a cutting board. He run a hand above it, and then he twisted a part of it and took it out. It was a hard part, like a shell that Will hadn’t expected to see in that animal, and he put it aside. He sensed Hannibal’s gaze alternating between the cutting board and him.

“It’s a cuttlefish. Have you ever tried it?”

“I don’t think so. It looks like a squid,” Will said, tilting his head to look at the form of it.

“It’s very similar, but the taste is different. I personally much prefer the cuttlefish to the squid,” he said, while he pulled from what Will thought it was the head and ripped it from the main part.

Both the animal and Hannibal’s hands were stained with the black ink, so he put the cuttlefish on a bowl of water that he had prepared in advance, and then he opened the faucet and let the water clean his hands.

“Do you want to try?” he asked him, and Will looked at him in the eyes for the first time.

He opened his mouth to say no to him out of habit, but then he stopped and reconsidered it… Why not?

“Eh… Okay. But I’ll probably do it wrong,” he assured him.

“I’ll guide you.”

“Sure you will…” Will said cutting, remembering how Hannibal had _guided_ him previously and how that had ended.

Will went to the sink and washed his hands, and when he turned around Hannibal had another cuttlefish prepared on the cutting board, but he moved aside to give him space. He rolled the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbow, and then he looked at the animal with no idea of how to start.

Hannibal spun it and pointed at it.

“It’s called cuttlefish because this part- touch it, Will,” Hannibal said, and he did so.

He felt the animal and the flesh was exactly like a squid, but the part that Hannibal was pointing at was really hard, like a bone. It was the thing he had seen him take first from the other cuttlefish.

“That part is a cuttlebone. You have to take it out, don’t hesitate.”

Will circled the bone with his fingers, unsure of how to take that out of the flesh, but it came out really easily when he applied a little pressure. He put it beside the one from the first animal, and then he looked at the hole that the bone had left on the flesh.

“Okay, all you have to do now is put your thumbs inside this hole,” he said, pointing at the space from where the head and tentacles of the animal came out. “And then you have to twist and it will rip.”

Will tried to do it, but that part was really squishy, and his fingers kept slipping.

“Wait, not exactly like that.”

He suddenly felt Hannibal’s hands _on top_ of his, and it startled him a little, but he didn’t move. He knew that Hannibal had felt it too, but he was pretending like he hadn’t, and he took the cuttlefish _and_ Will’s hands with his. He placed his thumbs on the correct place, and then they both twisted the flesh like they were ripping a piece of paper, and the animal was parted in two halves. The ink that came out immediately stained their hands, and seeing the black liquid made Will think about blood, and he inevitably remembered his hands on his dreams, stained with blood after killing someone.

Will looked up and suddenly realized how close Hannibal was; he had leaned forwards to be able to help him, and his chest was almost making contact with his shoulder, but he had been careful not to touch him. Their hands were a completely different story, because Will could still feel the cuttlefish, but also Hannibal’s long fingers enclosing both of his hands… Hannibal looked at him in that moment, and he held his gaze while the only thing he could hear were both of their breathings and heartbeats.

A dog barked in that moment, and Will stepped backwards, hitting Hannibal with his shoulder but moving away from him. He also sent drops of the black ink everywhere, including his clothes.

“Shit,” he said maintaining his hands facing upwards.

He turned and saw that it had been Ellie the one who had barked, and it wasn’t because there was a car approaching or anything, because in that case the other dogs would’ve done the same. She was seated on the floor looking at them and waving her tale: she was asking for something to eat.

Will cursed under his breath again and then he went to the sink to wash his hands. He saw Hannibal finishing the task and then he cut a piece of the tentacles and threw it to the dog, that caught it in the air. That made him feel both annoyed because he was feeding her out of her eating time, but also a warm feeling, because he was _actually_ feeding her with a treat.

“If you do that, she’ll start doing what she just did. She’ll be a spoiled dog that constantly asks for food.”

“Nothing wrong with spoiling them a little, Will. And Ellie goes crazy with mollusks.”

Will was drying his hands on the kitchen towel, but he looked at him while he finished cleaning the cuttlefish and started cutting it into pieces. He wondered if he only knew the dogs’ names because of their connection, or because he had actually learnt them. But what about what Ellie liked or not? Will himself didn’t even know that she loved that, but he looked at the dog, and there she was, waving her tail and staring right at Hannibal, while the other dogs showed a little interest, but not as much as her.

He shook his head trying to clear his mind, and threw the towel on top of the counter. Then, he went into his room and to change his clothes again, since they were all stained with the ink.

****

That weekend, he decided to go visit Abigail again and take her out before he had to go back to work, since he would have less time. He picked her up on the morning, and she asked him where they were going that time.

“Well… Do you like dogs, Abigail?” he asked her, even though he already knew the answer, since they had talked about it before.

Abigail smiled and nodded with enthusiasm, so Will smiled too. When they arrived at Wolf Trap the dogs went crazy with her, jumping around her and not giving her any space.

“Oh my god, you told me you had dogs, but there are so many!”

She knelt on the porch and Winston immediately nosed her hand, demanding attention.

“Okay, take it easy guys,” he told the dogs, but Abigail seemed truly happy to be completely surrounded by them.

When they finally let her breathe, they decided to take them out so they would let off some steam. While they were walking, Hannibal appeared beside Will and smiled when he saw Abigail with him.

“So… I got some news,” she told him when they got to the clearing.

She took the stick that Zoe brought her and threw it as far as she could. He remembered Hannibal doing that only a few days back and smiled a little.

“News! Good, I hope?” he asked her, sitting behind his usual tree.

She went to him and sat beside him, and saw that she was smiling, so he let himself breath.

“Yeah, they’re good,” she told him, but she made a pause in which she pocketed her hands. She took a couple of breaths and formed a cloud of fog in the air. “Alana told me yesterday that she’ll be recommending my release next week.”

Will immediately felt his stomach clenching, but he forced himself to smile a little, because she seemed really happy.

“That’s… That _is_ good news,” he said, and she nodded. “But what are… Where will you go?”

“Well, that’s the other good news. She told me I could stay with her.”

“Wh- Wow, that’s… Abigail, that’s great!”

Her smile grew wider and they hugged. While she was in his arms, he saw Hannibal behind her, looking at them with half a smile, but also a wistful expression, and he knew he was feeling the same thing as him.

“She said I could stay as long as I wanted. But this means I can even try going to college next year,” she told him when she moved back.

Will didn’t answer. Instead, he just smiled. He was happy for Abigail and grateful that Alana was letting her stay with her… But he _wished_ to be the one who could’ve offered that to her.

When they came back to the house, he made spaghettis, ignoring the few suggestions that Hannibal made until he realized he wasn’t going to listen to him. He did it partly to irritate him, but also because he wasn’t a great cook, but he could still make pasta.

When they finished eating, Will cleared the table and then looked at his watch and checked that it was still early to take her back to the facility, so he turned around.

“So… Do you want to do something?” he asked, and Abigail nodded. She was kneeling in front of one of the dogs’ beds, in which Harley was lying on her back so Abigail could scratch her belly.

Will looked around, trying to come up with something to do next with her, but he realized that his house didn’t offer many things for an eighteen years old to entertain with.

“Er… So I don’t have any board games or anything like that,” he told her while he went to the living room.

Hannibal was still sitting on one of the chairs on the table with his side leaned against it to face the living room, looking at Abigail.

“And I don’t have any movies. But I have the TV,” he said, pointing towards it.

Abigail laughed at his visible efforts and she stood up, shaking the dog hairs from her jeans.

“TV is fine. I’m sure there’s some movie we can watch now.”

While Will fired up the fireplace, he gladly gave her the remote control, since she knew how to use it much better than he did, and she quickly found a movie that she said she loved. Then they sat, Will on his usual couch and Abigail on Hannibal’s, and they started watching what looked like an old movie. A few minutes in, Will looked at Hannibal, who was trying to watch the movie but in an evidently uncomfortable position on the chair. He tried to tell himself that he was still mad at him, and he was still trying to hurt him even if it was through small things like that... But Will was relaxed, he was having a nice day with Abigail, and he couldn’t even find the anger inside him in that moment. So he finally sighed and Hannibal looked at him in the exact moment that he tried to attract his attention. Then, he reluctantly nodded towards the couch.

Will’s couches weren’t exactly armchairs, but they weren’t much more bigger. They could fit two cramped people, so he usually used them as single seats. But he guessed he could make an exception…

Hannibal understood what he meant and went towards him, crossing in front of him and blocking the view of the screen for a moment. Will looked at Abigail then, but she was too focused on the movie, so he moved as closer as he could to the couch’s right side, and then Hannibal sat beside him in a careful movement. Will immediately tensed a little when Hannibal’s thigh made contact with his, but the other quickly sensed his discomfort and crossed his legs so they would touch as little as possible.

Will put his elbow on the armrest and supported his head with his hand, and then he observed them; Abigail was facing the TV, sitting with her legs on top of the couch, hugging them and laughing with something that was happening on the movie. Hannibal had relaxed a little too, and he was smiling, although Will doubted it had anything to do with the film. And he was feeling relaxed too, at ease, with the warmth of the fireplace making him feel sleepy, and the tranquility that only a familiar environment provided, even though that situation wasn’t exactly something familiar to him. He smiled, wishing that moment could last more than just a couple of hours, and he slowly fell asleep without being able to help it.

When Abigail woke him up shaking his shoulder a little, the first thing he did was looking at his side, but Hannibal was gone. Then he saw how late it was and he apologized for falling asleep, to which Abigail rolled her eyes, telling him that he didn’t have to apologize for that. On the way to the facility on Baltimore, she was the one who fell asleep on the passenger seat.

****

Will went into the living room while he put on a sweater, with his hair still a little wet from the shower. Hannibal was on the kitchen, and he seemed to be quite busy. He lit the fireplace and then he went to the kitchen, where he leaned on the counter. Hannibal was boiling things in four different pots, and at the same time he was preparing something on the oven, so Will frowned at the quantity of food.

“Are we throwing a party for a dozen people?” he asked, leaning to get a better look at the pots, which seemed to contain chicken, rice and vegetables.

Hannibal turned to look at him and smiled a little. A few locks of loose hair swung over his forehead with the movement.

“This isn’t for us, it’s for them.”

Hannibal nodded first at the boiling pots and then towards the living, so Will followed the direction of his movement and looked at the dogs. Some of them were sitting, others lying down on the floor, but all of them were looking at Hannibal, expectant, as if they knew what they were talking about. Will raised his eyebrows and looked back at him.

“Are you _making_ food for them?” he asked, and Hannibal just nodded, returning to check all the pots so they wouldn’t leak.

Will had always preferred to prepare the dogs’ food from scratch, but in the last months he hadn’t prepared it as much as he would’ve liked because of everything that had happened.

“Do you think that I’m going to forgive you just because you’re nice to my dogs?”

Hannibal smiled a little without looking at him.

“Well, it certainly is a start, isn’t it?”

Will sensed in that moment that even though he hadn’t denied it, he wasn’t actually doing it with that purpose. Through their connection, he understood that Hannibal was doing it because he _wanted_ to do it, and that confused him. Will decided to let that thought go and finally moved from the counter. He took two glasses and a bottle of wine, and started setting the table.

When Hannibal finished cooking the dogs’ food, Will observed him while he fed all of them in their respective bowls, telling them to sit and wait, and the dogs being perfectly obedient.

After that, he went back to the kitchen and finished what he had been cooking for them on the oven, which turned out to be one of the trouts he had fished. Will wondered how much time did he plan on not cooking anything with meat in it. And he wondered too if that was, in his own strange way, a sort of, not exactly apologizing, but a way of letting Will know that maybe he would never do it again without him being aware of it.

Will tried the fish when Hannibal served it. It was much better than the one he had cooked, but he wasn’t certainly going to say anything to him.

“You know, I would miss the food, but I would give anything to be able to have a couple of days without you. Some time off, like you had when I was in the hospital…”

Will said that to tease him, but when he raised his gaze, he froze when he saw that Hannibal was pale and that he had stopped with the fork halfway to his mouth. He expanded his mind towards him and _sensed_ that he was remembering the time when Will had been sedated in the hospital. Will recalled that Hannibal had told him he hadn’t been able to reach him in those two days, that he had been worried and that’s why he had called the FBI and pretended to be asking for him.

Will hadn’t fully understood what he had meant to achieve with that phone call, but Hannibal looked at him in the eyes, in that moment Will _knew_ how he had felt when he hadn’t been able to go to him, to _sense_ him. He had been scared, unable to do anything, and that wasn’t something Hannibal was used to feel.

Will cleared his throat and lowered his gaze, returning to his meal and retreating his mind so he would stop feeling Hannibal’s memory.

****

Will looked at the address on his phone, then he looked at the street sign, and he confirmed that he had found the place he was looking for. He parked his car on the first spot he found, and then walked towards the building. But he had just crossed the street when a red blur blocked his path and made him stop. Will immediately felt angry at the sight of Freddie Lounds standing in front of him with a little smirk on her lips and a notepad on her hands.

“Good morning, Mr-“

“No,” he said, cutting her off.

Will tried to go around her, but she moved aside, enough to block him again, so he sighed, already annoyed.

“Not a good morning I assume, then.”

“My morning was just fine a minute ago. Do you mind?” Will said, nodding forwards to let her know that he wanted to keep walking.

“Fine, let’s forget the small talk. I see that it’s not your specialty anyway,” she said with a smile, and he rolled his eyes. She then took a pen out of the notepad. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for some time now, but you’ve been impossible to find.”

“Maybe because I don’t want to be found.”

“I heard that you were in the hospital,” she continued, ignoring him.

Will frowned, because that information wasn’t public. The FBI hadn’t said anything about it, since officially he was just a consultant. But once again, that woman seemed to have a way of finding out about things.

“Don’t tell me you were worried about me, it doesn’t suit you.”

“Not at all,” she said, and her smile grew wider. “But I found out something _really_ interesting.”

She made a pause, and he felt his heart pounding on his ears, because he feared what she was going to say next. Freddie Lounds looked down at her notepad, as if she was gloating over the piece of information she had.

“Apparently _someone_ called the FBI asking for you. Someone whose name actually came up in our previous conversation, I don’t know if you remember it…”

Will sighed trying to look uninterested, but they both knew what she meant.

“Tell me, Mr. Graham. Why does a cannibal serial killer who has been imprisoned for three years calls asking to talk to an FBI profiler? Is there perhaps some deal or arrangement that the FBI hasn’t told us? Or maybe is it something that _you_ haven’t told the FBI…? Because as far as I know, The Chesapeake Ripper hasn’t allowed anyone to interview him in almost two years…”

Will took a step towards her, but even though she stood where she was, he noticed the little twitch on her lip that indicated her discomfort.

“I… don’t have anything to tell you, Miss Lounds.”

Will finally circled her and started walking away, and she didn’t follow him. When he got to the door, he considered pretending to go to another direction so she didn’t know where he was headed. But he decided that he was, after all, going to a psychiatrists’ office, which wasn’t as weird as the real intention of his visit.

After ringing the doorbell and entering, a secretary told him to wait in one of the two armchairs that were on the lounge. He tried to be patient, but not even two minutes later he was drumming on the armrest. When the secretary glared at him, visibly irritated, he stopped and cleared his throat.

Ten minutes later, the door of the office finally opened and Bedelia du Maurier appeared behind it. He wondered if there had been any patient inside, but he also remembered that some psychiatrists had a back door so the patients didn’t bump into each other.

“Mr. Graham, you can come in now,” she told him in her melodic tone.

He did so, and he went into the room. He left his jacket on top of a divan, but he chose a couch to sit on. The woman sat on what he had guessed it was his usual spot, an armchair in front of both the couch and the divan.

Once they were both seated, they looked at each other for a few seconds. Will didn’t want to be the first to talk, because he didn’t even know where to begin, so he just waited until she moved a little and crossed her legs.

“So tell me, Mr. Graham. What does a criminal profiler and special agent of the FBI finds so interesting about the Sensates theories?”

It caught him a little by surprise that she knew about him, but after all, she knew his name, so it wasn’t that strange that she had looked for information about him.

“You did your research.”

“I had to make sure you weren’t some crazy person,” she confessed to him.

“And?” he asked, because he wasn’t sure of what she might have read.

“I haven’t decided yet,” she said, and then she smiled a little. “But I was telling the truth when I told you we would discuss whatever questions you had... So tell me, what is it that you want to know?”

He nodded, and then he tried to gather his thoughts.

“Well, I… Anything.”

“What do you know about the matter?”

Will made a pause and remembered what he had decided that he would say and the things he had decided to omit.

“Not much. I just read about it on the Internet, and I was… _really_ interested. But I don’t really understand it. I mean, you call it ‘ _Sensates theories_ ’, and yet you talk about it like it’s something that’s possible.”

“I do believe that it’s possible.”

“So do you… Have you… _met_ someone that has this… This…”

“Connection?” she finished for him, and he nodded. “No, I haven’t. But tell me something, Mr. Graham. Do you believe only in what you see?” she asked him, and she seemed to read his expression, so she didn’t wait for his response. “There are many things in our world that we do not comprehend or that we never see, and yet we accept their existence.”

He nodded, because it was essentially true. How many things about the world did humans not understand, and yet they just lived their lives seeing them every day?

Will focused again on the questions he had in his mind, and he cleared his throat before speaking again.

“In your lecture, you said that maybe there were already people that had this connection. Do you really think that?”

“Some of the people who study this believe it will be an ability that humans will acquire in time: an evolutionary step. Maybe in a hundred years, maybe in a thousand… But I believe that it’s something that could be already happening, yes.”

Will had thought that maybe she was herself a _Sensate_ , as she called it. Maybe she had another person out there, someone to whom she was connected, but he couldn’t know based on her words. Maybe she was just _really_ convinced on her theories… Or maybe she was just really careful with what she said in front of a stranger, exactly as he was doing.

“Okay. So…” he started saying, but he was unsure of how to address the most important questions he wanted to ask. “These… _hypothetical_ people. What would be exactly this connection?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed a little, as if to have a bit more time to think about how to approach that question.

“Do you know why it’s called _Sensates_ , Mr. Graham?” she asked him, and Will shook his head. “It comes from the Latin word _sensatus_ , which means ‘able to sense’. It means having the ability to apprehend through the senses. To feel, to hear, to touch, to smell, to taste… All of that with a person that could be miles away or even living on another continent, and everything within your mind. Imagine what that would feel like…”

“I’m trying…”

“So you ask what that connection would be like… I imagine it would feel like something impossible and yet the most natural thing.”

He made a pause again, and then he remembered one of the questions he had meant to ask her.

“And the connection… Could it be broken?”

“You have to remember that you are asking me about something that we cannot prove, of course. Everything are theories,” she told him, tilting her head a little.

“Of course. I mean… hypothetically.”

“ _Hypothetically_ , I don’t think so, no. This connection would probably be a strong bond between the cluster -which is what we would call the connected people-. Again, Mr. Graham, try to imagine being so entwined with someone. I don’t really think that could be broken… Or that the people involved would _want_ it to be broken.”

That’s what he had thought too, so he nodded. He really wasn’t sure if he would want to break the connection he had with Hannibal if he could. His mind told him that he was dangerous and he had hurt him in many ways. But as she had said… they were already so entwined that he couldn’t imagine living without the connection. The weeks he had spent apart from him had been unbearable, and he didn’t even want to think what it would be to feel like that all his life. To _feel_ so absolutely the absence of someone…

“And… What is what triggers it? I mean, what _would_ trigger it,” he quickly added, trying to amend his mistake on the words choice.

“The beginning of the connection, you mean?” Bedelia asked, and he nodded. “That’s impossible to know. But again, as I said on the lecture, it could be anything. From something that is bound to appear at some point in their lives, to an important event that would make them reach for the other end of the connection. Sort of like an instinctive thing, something you don’t know you can do… Until you _need_ to.”

He thought about the moment when he had killed Garret Jacob Hobbs, and how confused he had felt. But it had been exactly that: he had _needed_ Hannibal in that moment, even if he didn’t know it. He had needed him to save Abigail’s life, but not only that; he had needed him to be able to _deal_ with what had happened. With him killing a man, with him accepting that reality…

“Let _me_ ask you a question now, Mr. Graham,” she said, and she leaned a little forwards, interlacing her fingers on her lap. “After the lecture, you asked me something that it’s not even an accepted theory on our field, something most people wouldn’t think about. And yet now you tell me that you don’t know anything about this subject, that you just… Read about it on the Internet and found it interesting. So which one is it? Is it a newly found hobby… or do you know about this more than you are telling me?”

He felt himself flush a little, caught in the lie, but he remained calm, and he sighed and smiled.

“Yes, I’m sorry. Maybe I lied a little to get this appointment,” he said, and he was telling the truth, after all. “I just heard someone saying that at the end of the lecture and I used it so you would access to see.”

She observed him for a few seconds, and then she sighed, looked down and leaned backwards. Will couldn’t know for sure, but he would’ve sworn that she looked _disappointed_ , and then he understood: she had been studying the Sensates theories for years, probably. She _believed_ in it, and she had been approached by a man who needed answers to a lot of questions, but who also seemed to _really_ know about the subject. She probably had hoped that maybe she had found someone who could give her actual proof that she was right... And she actually _was_ , but she would never know.

“Can I ask a last question?” Will asked her, and she looked at him again and nodded slowly. “Again, theoretically. How would the… connection _affect_ them? I mean… Would it change them? Would it make them feel… I don’t know. You said that they would be entwined, so that maybe that could feel… like…”

“Love?”

His heart skipped a beat, because he had meant to avoid the word, but he nodded after a couple of seconds. That was, after all, the real reason for his visit. He _had_ general questions about the connection, but he had either worked out some of the answers, or he could live without knowing the exact answer to them. As she had said, humans already lived accepting the existence of things they didn’t understand. But that was different, that was something he couldn’t stop thinking about. Everything he had felt while he had thought that Hannibal was a hallucination, and everything he still felt… Was _any_ of that real?

“Some of the people who study this believe that a Sensate would experience love in its purest form. I don’t agree with this. I think that wouldn’t be love, Mr. Graham… It would be empathy.”

His breath got caught on his throat, because that’s exactly what he had feared to hear. What if the feelings inside him that he couldn’t exactly name were actually his empathy, working once again against him? What if they weren’t his, but only Hannibal’s? And that was only if they were even real, and he wasn’t trying to manipulate him in some way…

He felt his heart beating fast inside his chest, and he leaned forwards, trying to disguise his distress.

“Doing the… _research_ about you, I read that some articles call you empath, so I guess you can understand what I mean. The connection would be the most pure form of empathy. And love inside a cluster would be… pathological. The worst kind of narcissism.”

****

Will entered the spacious room and went to the center of it, where there was a square of seats. Hannibal was sitting there, facing one of the walls with a beautiful painting on it. Will wasn’t an art expert, but he knew that it was _The Birth of Venus_ , one of the most famous paintings by Botticelli.

When he sat next to Hannibal, he looked up from the drawing he was making and he looked at him with a smile on his lips.

“Where are we?” he asked him, looking at the walls with paintings around them.

At their right there was another one he recognized; _La Primavera_. He remembered reading about how Hannibal had recreated it with a murder when he had been in Italy, and he wondered how it would’ve been to see that particular tableau. Knowing him, probably nightmarish and beautiful.

“In the Uffizi Gallery, in Florence.”

Will just nodded, interlacing his fingers on his lap, and Hannibal returned to his drawing after a couple of seconds.

“You’ve been blocking me all day.”

Hannibal didn’t say it resentfully, but merely stating a fact, and probably out of curiosity. Will looked at him, and he noticed that he wasn’t wearing his prison uniform, but normal clothes. When they were in his mind palace, he never wore the uniform, but he usually wore a suit. In that moment, however, he was wearing almost normal pants and a jacket with a shirt underneath. He imagined him being on the run, perfectly blending wherever he went, and he smiled a little.

“I went to talk to someone,” he told him, and he breathed in before continuing. “Bedelia du Maurier. She’s… I don’t really know to describe what she is.”

“I know her name. Is she the author of ‘ _I am also a We_ ’?” Hannibal asked him, and Will looked at him again furrowing his brow.

“You know the book?”

“I read a little bit.”

“And you didn’t think about telling me, perhaps?”

Hannibal looked down at his drawing again, and he shrugged.

“I didn’t consider it something worth of a conversation. She has some interesting ideas, but nothing we couldn’t figure out on our own.”

Will shook his head a little, but after all, he was right.

“So you went to talk to her? About… us?”

Will straightened his back and bit his lower lip before breathing out and looking at him again.

“I’m going to ask you something, and… just don’t lie,” Will said, and waited in case Hannibal said anything, but he didn’t; he just looked at him, expectant. Will, however, looked at the painting in front of them before asking the question. “Everything you did before I learned the truth... Was _all_ of that… to blind me? Like you did with Alana Bloom?”

Will felt his heart hammering on his chest, but at the same time, he felt relieved. He had finally asked the question, whatever happened next. He looked at him after a pause in which neither of them said anything, and he noticed that Hannibal’s expression had changed, his eyes suddenly showing a spark of anger.

“Do you really have to ask that, Will?”

He barked a bitter laugh.

“I _am_ asking you, am I not?” he asked, trying to fight all the memories that were starting to crowd inside his mind, and he had to look away again. “I _kissed_ you,” Will whispered then, closing his eyes, unable to look at him while he said it. “I kissed you and you kept lying and using me… How can you blame me for asking?”

He felt the tears fighting to flow from his eyes, but he repressed them. When he looked at him again, Hannibal had left the drawing beside him, on the imagined seat of the Uffizi Gallery, and he had turned his body a little to him.

“Look inside me, Will. _Feel_ me, and tell me what you see.”

But Will shook his head, running both hands through his face.

“No, no… I don’t… I _can’t_ trust that. Bedelia, she told me… She said that what I felt was empathy. And it makes so much sense,” he said, laughing but feeling a tear running down his cheek. He recalled the conversation in his mind, and he _let_ Hannibal see it, listen to Bedelia’s words in his mind.

Will opened his eyes again, and the setting around them disappeared and he found himself back on his living room. He looked at Hannibal, who was sitting across from him, and he was grateful for the increased distance between them. He saw that Hannibal’s features were much softer now, the anger gone.

“So you’re just going to take the word of a person who doesn’t know what this is, instead of trusting yourself? Do you fear what’s inside you _that_ much?”

In that moment, Hannibal leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his thighs, and Will swallowed hard, not knowing what to answer.

“Let me ask you something, Will… What do you see when you think about me? It is just the murders, the pain I caused you? Or is it something else…?”

Will tried to even his irregular breathing while he thought about it, but then he saw it clearly in his head. It was such a difficult and yet simple answer now that he thought about it, and once he started talking, the words just flowed from him.

“I obviously think about the murders. But that’s not the first thing that comes to my mind…” he said, and Hannibal leaned backwards on the couch, listening to him. “I think about… when you saved Abigail’s life. I think about the night when you asked me to go outside to look at the stars. I think about…” he said, and his voice faltered for a moment, but he continued after a pause. “I think about the first time I touched you and the way it felt. And about your face when you look at a piece of art or listen to classical music, like it’s the only thing that exists in the world,” Will closed his eyes and he remembered the expression on his face the first time they had been on Italy inside his mind palace. When he opened his eyes again, he smiled. “I think about how you apparently learnt my dogs’ names without being conscious about it. And I think… about the weight on the other side of the mattress, and how I only feel safe if I feel you there.”

When he fell silent, he realized his heart was racing in his chest and he was shaking a little. But Will still raised his gaze to look at him, and he furrowed his brow when he saw that his eyes seemed watery. Hannibal then looked down for a moment, which confused Will even more.

They looked at each other for so long that he thought he wasn’t going to say anything, but then licked his lips and finally spoke.

“It feels like love to me, Will…”

Will loosened the strain he had kept on his mind, and he felt it then. A savage and ardent feeling that he could not believe he hadn't noticed before, that hit him like he had been blocking the sunlight and he was now looking straight at it. Hannibal didn't love midways; he knew that because he had felt it in his mind palace, in his memories of Mischa. He _knew_ what Hannibal's love felt like, and suddenly it was right there, looking directly at him.  
Will swallowed and shook a little, because the intensity of the feeling was overwhelming… But also because he recognized that feeling; it was the same thing he felt when _he_ looked at Hannibal. Underneath the rage, the betrayal, the confusion… Beneath all that, he could feel it, his own feelings, not blended with Hannibal’s.

He leaned forwards while he blinked a couple of tears and ran a hand through his face, trying to cover them. But he had no reason to do it. He looked at him again and saw that Hannibal was smiling; a sincere smile with no hidden meanings, no games, no deceptions.  
  
"Do you see now?"  
  
And Will nodded, because he couldn't speak. Hannibal _was_ in love with him. He had already suspected it, although he hadn’t wanted to believe it… But Will now knew what _he_ felt. He finally knew that he was, too, in love with Hannibal Lecter.

For a second, he felt more scared and angrier than ever, because how could he be feeling that? How could he be feeling something so powerful for someone that had hurt him so much…? In that moment, Hannibal looked down, breathing heavier, and Will knew that the amount of feelings was overwhelming him too, and he felt the anger slowly fading.

That night, when he was lying on his bed, he focused and Hannibal appeared beside him. But that time, instead of sleeping with his back towards him, he faced him and looked at his features, illuminated by the dim moonlight. Hannibal turned to him, but he didn’t say anything, and neither did Will. He tried to fight the need that was emerging inside him, but in the end, was it even worth it?

Will decided to stop thinking, and he just moved closer to him and put his head over Hannibal’s shoulder. Then, a little hesitant, he put his arm over his chest, embracing him and resting his hand on his other shoulder, grabbing the fabric of the uniform. He felt both his and Hannibal’s hearts going faster at the touch, but neither of them moved.

When Will finally relaxed against him, he let himself feel the prison uniform under his cheek and hand, and he felt Hannibal’s chest going up and down under his arm at the rhythm of his breathing.

“I still haven’t forgiven you. You know that, right…?” Will whispered into his shoulder.

“I know,” the other said, and Will felt the vibration of his voice against his cheek.

That night, he fell on a dreamless sleep with his arms around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in the last chapter, the next update will be in **two weeks** instead of one as I've been updating until now. I will see if I keep it that way or if I can go back to the "chapter per week", but right now it will be that way, I hope you understand!
> 
> And about the chapter... nothing else to say! *pats Will on the head for being so blind and cute* *covers her mouth*  
>  
> 
> And now, songs!
> 
> · [I found](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yj6V_a1-EUA), Amber run (so I discovered this song in [this amazing and beautiful hannigram fanvid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M3WOUa2ink4) and the song was SO will/hannibal and it fit the fic so much... It's one of my favorite songs from the playlist, it's just PERFECT<3)  
> · [I am you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kNesA3gjGUE), Depeche Mode  
> · [Here with me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzR8BCmV9Ew), Susie Suh x Robot Koch


	13. Thirteen

Will went out of the bathroom while he tried to dry his hair with the towel after the shower he had taken, but he froze when he saw Hannibal lying on top of his bed, using his laptop.

“Do we really have to have the conversation about privacy _again_?” he asked him while he resumed what he was doing, but at the same time trying to cover himself a little with the towel.

After the time when he had caught him naked, Will had gotten used to take his underpants with him to the bathroom. So in that moment he wasn’t exactly naked, but that was all he was wearing when the other raised his gaze from the screen and looked at him with an amused expression.

“How would _you_ feel if I appeared after you’ve taken a shower and I just stared at you?” Will asked him, and right after he said it, he knew what his answer would probably be. Hannibal tried to suppress a smile in vain, and Will just raised a hand. “ _Don’t_ answer that, just… shut up.”

“Come on, Will… I’ve seen you with less clothes than that.”

“Yeah, remind me that, I had forgotten about it,” he told him sarcastically.

Hannibal smiled again and returned to the computer, and he started getting dressed with his back turned towards him.

“Today is your first day back at the university, isn’t it?” Hannibal asked him after a moment, while Will buttoned up his shirt.

“Yeah,” he said finally turning around while he took a tie to put it on later. “I think I actually miss giving lectures…”

Will had never truly loved his job at the university, especially when he had to interact with his students, but he realized just then that he _had_ missed it. Or maybe he just missed having something to do outside the house.

“Is that a new shirt?” he asked him, getting him back to reality.

“Eh… yeah,” Will answered, looking at it. He ran a finger through the cuffs while he remembered that he had bought it along with a bunch of clothes when he had been at the mall with Abigail.

Hannibal closed the laptop and left it on the mattress before standing up and studying him with a long look. He stayed behind the bed, giving him space, but Will felt more naked then than when he had felt wearing only his underpants.

“You look good in it,” he said, smiling.

Will felt his heart going faster, but he also felt a little irritated at his compliment, so he rolled his eyes.

“It’s just a shirt.”

He walked by him and went into the living room, and found that the table was already set. Hannibal had probably set everything while he was in the shower, but he hadn’t prepared the food so it wouldn’t get cold. Hannibal went to the kitchen and started making scrambled eggs while Will made the toasts.

****

He taught two classes that day, and some students even approached him to tell him they were glad he was okay, to which he just nodded and tried to smile.

When he returned to Wolf Trap in the afternoon, he first took the dogs for a walk, and then he came back and almost collapsed on the couch. He had forgotten how much teaching classes could mentally exhaust him.

He felt Hannibal appearing in the living room, but he didn’t open his eyes. He heard him go to the kitchen, and he thought he was going to cook something, even though it was still a little early, but he heard how he took something from the fridge and then a couple of the dogs barked and he shushed them. Will finally opened his eyes and saw the pack circling the kitchen while Hannibal filled their bowls with the food he had done for them, so he couldn’t help to smile a little. Hannibal finished filling the bowls and he turned to them.

“Sit,” he said, and the ones that weren’t already seated did so.

When all the dogs were still, he had to go twice from the kitchen to the little room where they ate to be able to carry all the bowls. Then, he stood in the living room and raised a hand, to which all the dogs tensed up. When he lowered it pointing at the room, indicating that they could go, they all went to eat.

Hannibal went to his couch and sat in front of him, as if he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary.

“How did your first day go?”

Will leaned forwards grunting a little from the effort, and then he took his glasses off, which he had used after a long time, and ran a hand through his face.

“Not bad, I guess. Much better than my _last_ day at work,” he told him, and Hannibal tilted his head a little at his remark.

“I know what you need to relax a little,” he said, standing up again.

Will immediately knew he was referring to a glass of whisky or wine, but for some reason, the phrase sounded very different in his mind, and he had to block his mind a little so Hannibal didn’t sense his sudden arousal.

When he came back with two glasses of whisky, he took the one he was offering him and drank it in almost one gulp before the other even had time to turn around. Hannibal looked at him smiling, and then he went to the kitchen again and brought the bottle with him. Will nodded and drained the glass to refill it. He took the second one much slower, but still too quickly for a glass of whisky. He glanced at Hannibal in between sips while he remembered the night before. Will had been evoking it in his mind all day, unable to think about anything else every single moment he hadn’t been teaching a class. And how could he not, when his life had suddenly turned upside down…

“I meant what I said last night, you know?” he said then, encouraged by the alcohol. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Yes, you’ve made that very clear,” Hannibal said, and he didn’t sound sarcastic nor hurt about it, just stating a fact.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you…” Will whispered, even though he realized as he said it that it was mostly a lie.

He could feel the hurt and betrayal slipping away from him, even though he tried to hold on to it. Because how could he forgive what he had done to him so easily, so quickly? It maddened him to think that he was just going to forgive him sooner than later, and he couldn’t really do anything about it… But he could already feel it, the forgiveness creeping into him despite his efforts to repel it.

Will sipped from his whisky again, and neither of them talked for a few minutes, so when Hannibal spoke, his voice startled him a little.

“Have you considered that perhaps you’re angrier at yourself than you are at me?”

Will looked at him then, and at first he felt a sudden wave of anger, but it vanished as fast as it had appeared, and he sighed. He hated their connection for a lot of reasons, and one of them was because Hannibal sometimes seemed to know things that Will didn’t even allow himself to think. Things he _preferred_ not to think. He swallowed, and tried to even his breathing while he thought whether to answer or not, but the words just came to him, and in that moment, he felt the need to say them out loud. And when he did, he lowered his gaze, unable to look at him while he said that.

“I think… I think a part of me always knew that you were real…” he whispered, and his heart started beating faster. He wasn’t just confessing it to Hannibal; he was saying that to himself for the first time. “And I didn’t do anything to stop it. To stop _you_. I just… I couldn’t believe it.”

“Because you were afraid of me?” he asked him, but Will shook his head and looked at him.

“No, not afraid of you. Of this,” Will said, waving a hand in the space between Hannibal and himself.

He remembered that Hannibal had told him exactly that, right before he had had the seizure, and he had been right all along. He wasn’t afraid of Hannibal, not even of how the man and their connection were affecting him. He was afraid of how real everything was, how everything was suddenly too much, too fast.

Will leaned back on the couch with the whisky on one hand, and he let out a long sigh.

“I don’t know how we’re going to share a life,” he confessed, and he wasn’t even mad in that moment.

“I’m sure we will find a way,” Hannibal told him.

Will looked at him for a long time, and he didn’t look away when he spoke again.

“I don’t… I don’t share your appetite. I would never…” he started saying, but he paused. He couldn’t say out loud what he was going to say, he just couldn’t.

“Never what?”

Will leaned forwards again and ran a finger over his jaw. He could feel the fear tensing his muscles, making him shiver a little even though he wasn’t cold in that moment.

“I wouldn’t be able to kill innocent people in cold blood…”

Will looked again at Hannibal, and he felt his chest going up and down. He had said it, _really_ said it. And that meant too many things, things he had been keeping locked under too many doors inside his mind, things he hadn’t truly accepted.

Hannibal was looking at him undisturbed, and he was glad that he hadn’t smiled, although Will knew he would certainly be delighted with his confession.

“Perhaps you don’t have to.”

He felt his heart hammering on his chest, and he wondered for a moment if he had understood him correctly. But he had. Will let his mind expand towards him, and he _knew_ that Hannibal was saying the truth. He wasn’t trying to manipulate him, he wasn’t trying to trick him… Will just kept looking at him, not sure of what to say or if there was anything else he could say, so he just fell silent.

When Will was setting the table that night, Hannibal put their dinner on the table and then went to the bookshelf to put on some music. Will sat first, but then he froze when he heard the first notes of the song. He turned around and followed Hannibal with his eyes while he circled the table, sat in front of him and started serving the food.

“Tomato or onion?” he asked, pointing at the garnish.

Will looked briefly at the plate, and he frowned.

“Both.”

Hannibal served him, and he kept looking at him, listening to the song on the background. He had put a Johnny Cash song, which wouldn’t be that weird considering he usually had him on the CD player… But what had perplexed him was the chosen song, because it was ‘ _I walk the line_ ’. In the song, Cash claimed that he would behave, but the phrase ‘walk the line’ could have another connotation, since it also meant keeping a fragile balance between two extremes. Will wondered if Hannibal had chosen that song for that purpose, as a kind of message to him after the conversation they had just had that afternoon.

“It’s going to get cold,” Hannibal told him, pointing at his plate and interrupting his thoughts.

Will looked at the food. He wasn’t that hungry, but he still made an effort and started eating.

That night, when he was lying on the bed, he tried to sleep, but he kept replaying the conversation and the song over and over again in his mind. He was trying to find any other meaning to Hannibal’s words, but he couldn’t.

Will finally closed his eyes and concentrated on him, and he felt him appearing beside him. When he opened his eyes, he looked at his right side and there he was, with his face turned to him and his chest going up and down at the rhythm of his peaceful breathing. He observed him and he felt his heart clenching with the powerful feeling that he awoke inside him.

Since Hannibal was asleep, he tried not to wake him up, but he moved as closer to him as he could, and he grazed his shoulder with his fingers. He felt immediately better and he let out a long breath before closing his eyes and, finally, falling asleep.

****

When he finished working on Friday, which had been an extra class he had taught to make up for the time he had been away, Will decided that he had to go grocery shopping, even if he was just as tired as the two previous days he had been back at the university. He focused on Hannibal once he was on the car and he appeared beside him; he couldn’t imagine going grocery shopping alone anymore. And besides, it was Hannibal the one who did almost all the cooking, so it was only fair that he got to choose some of the things they were buying.

“Have you ever tried swordfish?” he asked him when they walked by the fish aisle, and he leaned over the freezers.

Will approached him and looked at all the fish there, but he shook his head.

“No swordfish.”

“Tuna, then?”

“No, I mean-“ Will started saying, but he remembered he was in a public space, so he looked around him. The perk of going grocery shopping at noon was that the supermarket was almost empty, so there was nobody around. He looked at him again. “No more fish. At least for a while.”

He went to the meat aisle pushing the cart without pausing to look at him, but he knew that he would be right behind him. Will took a piece of meat and held it, asking him without words if that was okay.

“Pork?” he asked, taking it from his hands.

“It’s not long pig,” Will said, raising his eyebrows, which made Hannibal smile.

When they came back to Wolf Trap, Hannibal started preparing the vegetables while he sliced the meat, but they weren’t even halfway done when Will heard a door opening and he raised his head. The kitchen disappeared around them and it was substituted by Hannibal’s room in Baltimore.

Will saw Frederick Chilton entering the room at the other side of the glass and he immediately felt the irritation growing inside him, but he knew that it was all his own, not even a little tainted with Hannibal’s displeasure.

“Good evening, Dr. Lecter,” he greeted him

“Good evening, Dr. Chilton,” Hannibal said, suddenly serious.

Frederick Chilton raised a hand with a couple of magazines in it.

“Two of this month’s publications. I’m going to let them on the-”

Chilton stopped by the tray, and then he raised his gaze to look at Hannibal.

“I see you’re still not eating properly… Be careful, Doctor, you wouldn’t want us to have to take the matter into our hands, would you?”

“No, I would not. Thank you for your concern, Frederick,” Hannibal told him, and Will noticed the irony in his voice.

Chilton half closed his eyes, probably considering whether to tell him anything else or not, but he finally left the magazines next to the food and pushed the tray to their side. Then, he walked away. The second the doors closed, Will looked at Hannibal, who was already going to get the things out of the tray, and he then noticed that the uniform was a little loose around his waist. He had lost weight, and then he understood it: every single time that he ate with him he wasn’t _really_ eating. That food didn’t feed his body, there on Baltimore, even though he tasted everything like he was actually eating. Will hadn’t thought about it, but now that he did, it was _so_ obvious he could not believe he hadn’t noticed or thought about it before.

“You’re not eating your food…” he said when he came back to the metallic table and left both the tray and the things Chilton had brought him.

Hannibal didn’t answer, but it wasn’t necessary. Will felt _so_ mad in that moment.

“Well, you are from now on. I won’t let you touch anything from my kitchen unless you start eating everything here.”

“Will…” he started to protest, but Will stared at him, so he smiled a little, but finally nodded. “Okay.”

“Starting now,” Will said, pointing at the tray of food, but Hannibal didn’t seem very eager to pick up the fork and star eating..

“Let’s make a deal. We finish cooking dinner, and then I… eat this afterwards.”

Will thought about it for a moment, and then he nodded. They came back to the kitchen and finished preparing dinner. After that, they ate together as they usually did, although Hannibal served himself half of what he used to, and Will guessed it was a way of trying to be a little hungry for the _other_ food. Once they finished, Will focused immediately on Baltimore and he just sat on the edge of Hannibal’s bed while the other sat on the stool and took the tray of food, way more than cold by then. He took the plastic fork and took a piece of what looked like some sort of meat that didn’t look like anything at all.

“Are you going to stay there and watch me eat?” Hannibal asked him, sounding amused by the idea.

“Yes, I am.”

Hannibal nodded while he took some of the peas he had as garnish, but then he looked at him again.

“Could you at least focus on your house?” he asked him, and Will frowned. “The food will follow me there, just as the books or the drawings,” he assured him.

“Why…?” Will started asking, but then he stopped right away, shaking his head.

Will focused on his house and they went back to the living room, where Hannibal kept eating

“Of course you prefer to be anywhere but in that cell…” Will whispered, because he couldn’t believe he had been about to ask him that.

Hannibal, who was now seated at the table in his living room, took the plastic cup of water from the tray and took a sip from it, but when he left it Will knew there was something he wasn’t telling him, so he raised his eyebrows, inquiring.

“It’s not only that, it’s…”

“What?” he asked him when he fell silent for a few seconds, sipping from the glass of wine he had left there after dinner and expanding his mind towards Hannibal so he would taste it too.

“I don’t like seeing you there. Inside the cell.”

Hannibal looked straight at him, and Will felt his heart skipping a beat, so he swallowed but didn’t try to talk.

The problem was, most of the time they spent together was with Hannibal visiting _him_ , and not the other way around. It wasn’t like he forgot that Hannibal was imprisoned, but he just didn’t think about it all the time. But when he said that, he _sensed_ the truth in his words, and Will felt his own pain blending with Hannibal’s.

When he finished eating, he disappeared for a couple of minutes to return his tray of food to Baltimore, and Will cleaned the things from the living room and the kitchen meanwhile.

_When Hannibal returned, Will was already waiting for him with two glasses of whisky, and he felt immediately grateful. After the awful dinner, he really needed it. Hannibal sat in his usual couch, but he focused and took Will to another place, another time._

_When he opened his eyes, they were in the middle of a different living room, one that had belonged to him; one that would probably be empty, abandoned and dusty now. Will looked around him, but not as confused as he had been the first times he had taken him away on his mind palace. He was much more used to it now, and Hannibal knew that Will’s own mind palace was growing, too, even merging with his own._

_Will took a sip from his glass of whisky while he examined the room, and then he looked at him again._

_“Did you ever… think about using the connection to break out of the Hospital?” Will asked him._

_Hannibal traced the edge of the glass with a finger, and he pursed his lips together, nodding a little._

_“It crossed my mind at first, of course. But it was an impossible idea, so I quickly dismissed it,” he said._

_Hannibal had suddenly found himself sharing a connection with an FBI agent, so he had of course thought about it, for a second at the beginning. But he hadn’t seen any possible outcome from that; the Baltimore State Hospital was too secure, too guarded to think about it any further._

_Will nodded, understanding it, and then he left his glass on the coffee table between them and stood up. He pocketed his hands while he strolled around the room, looking at the paintings hanged on the walls, and the rest of the decorations. He seemed truly curious about everything, but then he stopped by a replica of a painting. Hannibal left his own glass and got up, walking to him and standing beside him._

_“William Blake’s_ The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with the Sun _,” he said, turning to look at Will. “Few images in western art radiate such a unique and nightmarish charge of demonic sexuality.”_

_Will turned to look at him, and Hannibal smiled a little, conscious of how the space between them suddenly felt too charged. There was nothing he wanted more than to erase the distance that separated them, but he resisted the need, as always, respecting Will’s space._

_He closed his eyes for a moment, and then a song started sounding from his memory and filled the room. When he opened his eyes again, they were on a different room, somewhere far away from Wolf Trap and Baltimore. Will looked around, and then he looked through the open balcony from which a bright light was entering, and they both walked towards it. The outside was pure light, with the midday sun bathing the Italian streets while the song soothed them from the interior. Hannibal inhaled and closed his eyes again, feeling the violin from Mozart’s composition filling his chest with pleasure, and the smell he remembered from the streets filling his nostrils._

_Hannibal felt the pleasure taking over Will too, and he looked at him. He was enjoying the music and the setting, and that delighted Hannibal even more than the piece of music itself._

_“Is this Florence?” Will asked then in a low voice, looking outside the street of his memory palace with the hint of a smile on his lips._

_“It is,” Hannibal said, unable to take his eyes off of him._

_Will leaned against the banister and looked at the rooftops of the buildings in front of them, and finally the smile he had been containing appeared in his lips, drawing lines on his cheeks and around his eyes._

_“This is so beautiful,” Will said while his smile grew wider._

_“It’s such a small part of this city… I wish I could really show you Florence, Will.”_

_The curls of hair swung on his forehead when he turned to look at him. He didn’t answer, but he stood up straight again and, without averting his eyes from him, he smiled again. In that moment, he distinctly sensed Will’s ease, which meant he was reaching to him, so Hannibal smiled too. But Will looked away for a moment, probably overwhelmed._

_“Aren’t you afraid of how powerful this is becoming?” Will asked him, gazing at the horizon again. “The connection. Sometimes I feel like you and I are beginning to blur. Your feelings, my feelings, your thoughts, my thoughts… Sometimes I’m not sure which are yours and which are mine.”_

_“Perhaps that’s because our minds are similar, regardless of the connection. But I believe our selves will never disappear, as intertwined as we ever get to be.”_

_Will just looked at him, but his smile had faded, so Hannibal took a step towards the banister, getting a little closer to him with the movement._

_“I personally am excited to see how it will keep evolving. And who knows, maybe it will become even more powerful once we see each other in person.”_

_He tried to sound nonchalant, but he knew that Will had noticed the choice of words. ‘Once’ suggested that Hannibal assumed it would be something that would happen sooner or later. And his tone suggested that he would very much prefer if it happened sooner than later._

_Hannibal looked at Will again, and he was staring at him, but he seemed to be focused, and his eyes had something different, a spark that he instantly recognized. That’s why, when Will leaned towards him, that time didn’t come as much as a surprise as the two times before._

_Will’s lips fit with his own much more easily than the last time, and Hannibal just closed his eyes and let Will set the rhythm while both of their hearts raced in their chests. He kissed Hannibal just with his lips at first, a little inhibited, but then he opened his mouth a little and Hannibal felt his body lighting on fire, and he wasn’t even sure if the arousal was Will’s, only his, or from both of them. But in that moment, Will pushed him with both of his hands over his chest, and Hannibal hit something with his back, a door, a wall, he didn’t care. The only thing Hannibal cared about in that moment was that he felt Will’s body over his, and then he couldn’t stand not touching him anymore. He embraced him and pulled him even closer to him, and Will moaned in the exact moment their hips made contact. Will wrapped his arms around his neck and shoulders, arching his back against him without breaking the kiss, and Hannibal felt his fingers disheveling his hair._

_Hannibal thought he was going to lose his mind, because it was inconceivable for something to feel like that. In that moment, he turned around in a quick movement without loosening the embrace on Will even an inch, and in a second they were opposite as how they had been. Hannibal pushed Will with his body against the wall the other had pushed_ him _, and the moment Will’s back was against the even surface, he abandoned his lips and started kissing his jaw while he thrust a little with his hips, feeling Will’s erection against his own through the layers of clothes and losing the control over his own breathing. Will immediately moaned, breathing heavily against his ear, and that turned him on even more. But he knew that there was a limit he couldn’t exceed with Will, not yet, so he stayed on his neck and he kissed every inch of skin his lips could find, drawing an invisible trail from his collarbone to his chin._

_When he returned to his lips, Will was trembling in his arms, loudly panting with every breath he took. He looked at his eyes for a second, and they had the wildest look he had ever seen, so Hannibal felt proud, because it had been him the one who had made him look like that._

_Hannibal slowly moved his hands from Will’s ribs to his back, and when he kissed him again, he did it slowly, gently, reducing the rhythm, tasting him, playing with his tongue and savoring each and every second of it._

_When they looked at each other’s eyes again, they were still panting, but much less than before. Will looked from his eyes to his lips, and then he licked his own while he still shook a little on his arms._

_“It’s impossible that it would feel more intense than this…” Will whispered, and his voice was thick and deep._

_At first Hannibal didn’t know what he was talking about, but then he remembered what they had been talking about, and he smiled a little; he was talking about seeing each other in person, of course. They had only briefly talked about that once, and it had been when Will had been on the verge of his seizure. But after everything that had happened, Hannibal had thought about it several times. He wanted and_ needed _to know how seeing and feeling Will in person would be like._

_“There’s only one way to find out,” he said, and his own voice sounded hoarse._

_A smile flickered on Will’s lips, and then he loosened the embrace around Hannibal’s shoulders, and he had to give him a little space, which felt unbearable after the intimacy they had shared._

_“I… I don’t think I’m ready yet,” he said, shaking his head a little._

_Hannibal felt a small pang of anguish, but he still nodded, because as much as he wanted it, the last thing he could to do was pushing Will again so soon._

_Will finally made him move backwards, and Hannibal noticed for the first time that they weren’t in his mind palace anymore. It was only natural that it had faded away, since he hadn’t exactly been focusing on anything that wasn’t Will, but he still felt a little confused when he saw that they were back in his living room, with Ellie and Winston raising their heads in that moment to look at them from the couple of bed dogs that were in that room. Will finally moved away from the wall, took his glass of whisky from the wooden table, and he drank the remains in one gulp._

That night, Hannibal was already waiting for him in bed when he got out of the bathroom, and he went under the sheets while the other rolled over on the mattress to face him.

He was in his uniform, which he had been wearing in bed since Will had started willingly sharing it with him again. He figured he was doing it on purpose, so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable, so he would get _used_ to sleeping with a man now that he knew he was real... But the truth was, it wasn’t being as difficult as he had expected it to be. He _needed_ and wanted Hannibal’s touch, especially in those moments, in the darkness of the bedroom and the softness of the mattress. It scared him a little the normalcy of it, the speed at which he was getting used to him, but it was definitely better than the way he had felt when he had first started sharing his bed with him…

That night, after the kiss they had shared, it was even easier, so he just touched his shoulder and Hannibal understood; he moved his left arm so he could lay down with his head on his shoulder. Once he left his hand on top of Hannibal’s clothed chest, he felt the other’s arm on his back, embracing him.

Will raised his chin a little, nosing Hannibal’s neck and inhaling his scent directly from his skin. He _sensed_ Hannibal smiling through their connection, but he was already falling asleep.

****

Will groaned, irritated at the sound of the phone’s ring tone, and he finally opened one eye to the excessive brightness. He took the phone and answered the call without even looking at the screen.

“Hmm yeah?” he said, trying not to sound too sleepy and not succeeding at all.

“Will? Did I wake you up?” the voice of Alana asked him.

He rolled over on the mattress to face the ceiling, and ran a hand through his face.

“No… I was just…” he said, and he cleared his throat while he sat up. “Yeah, I was asleep, but it’s okay.”

Will looked at his right side and he confirmed that Hannibal wasn’t there. It was something he already knew, but it still hurt him a little to see the mattress empty. He knew that even if they went to bed together every night, once they fell asleep and weren’t focusing anymore, they both returned to their rooms, which meant that Will always woke up alone unless the other would wake up first. But Will figured that Hannibal was still maintaining his distance, because he hadn’t been there a single morning.

“Oh, I’m really sorry,” Alana told him, and he knew that she was talking to him with the car’s hands-free device, since he could hear the background noise. “I was calling you because… Well, Abigail told you that I was going to approve her release, right?”

“Yeah, she did. She told me that you offered her to stay with you, too. That’s… Thank you, Alana. Really.”

He had meant to go see her or call her to thank her, but he had ended up forgetting with his return to the classes and everything else.

“I didn’t want to bother you, but she insisted that I’d ask you if you wanted to come too. It’s not really a move, since she doesn’t have many things at the facility, but… She insisted. But if you have anywhere else to be today, Will-“

“Alana, of course I’ll be there,” he said, laughing a little. “Besides, it’s Saturday, I was thinking about going to see her today anyway.”

“Thanks, Will. She’ll be so happy to know you’re coming. And I’ll invite you two to lunch, my treat.”

After Alana gave him the rest of the details, Will hanged up the phone with a smile on his lips at the thought of seeing Abigail. Then, he concentrated on Hannibal, and when he looked at his right side, he was there. He was facing down, with his head on the pillow and his hands buried under it. While he observed his back going up and down at rhythm of his breathing, he thought again of how uncomfortable the uniform must be to sleep in. Will was extending a hand towards him to touch him when the other inhaled deeper and started moving, so he moved his hand quickly away.

Hannibal rolled over his back and rubbed his eyes with a hand before being able to open them and look at him. Will was sitting on the bed, with his knees bent, so he hugged them, with the phone still on his hand.

“Did someone wake you up?”

“Alana. She’s taking Abigail to her house today, and she asked me if I wanted to go with them,” he explained, and then he smiled again a little, picturing Abigail living finally on a house and not on the facility. She would probably not live a _normal_ life anytime soon, but maybe she could have something very similar…

“And you’re going.”

Will nodded even though it wasn’t a question, and then he turned to leave the phone on the nightstand and then he lay down on the mattress again with a sigh.

He could feel Hannibal’s eyes fixed upon him, studying his face, and Will let him. When he turned to look at him, he felt his heart skipping a beat at how incredibly handsome the man was. The morning sunlight made his hair look brighter and his eyes seemed hazel.

Will hadn’t really thought about him like that, or at least he hadn’t let himself think about it at first. When he still thought he was a hallucination, he had wondered what everything meant, since as far as he knew, he had been heterosexual… But Hannibal and the connection had arrived, and then everything that had happened after.... He hadn’t really stopped to think about it, but now that he had understood what his feelings were, even if they were still chaotic inside his mind, he could admit some small things to himself, little by little. And that was one of them. Hannibal Lecter had the features of a sculpture carved in stone, and he awoke in him too many things to list… and maybe that was just fine.

Will felt the urge to extend his hand and touch his cheek, but he restrained himself. Maybe he could admit some things to himself, but it was still hard to _actually_ face them, especially in the daylight, where things were too sharp, too real. Instead, he averted his eyes to his hair, which was falling over his forehead, but still perfectly organized. Nothing like his own hair, which he couldn’t see, but he was sure it would be a complete mess.

“Your hair is longer,” he said, and he realized how stupid the phrase sounded once he had said it. “Longer than… when you first appeared, I mean.”

“Yes, I know. Perhaps they no longer fear that I’ll make a weapon out of my own hair if they allow me to let it grow.”

Will couldn’t help to smile a little at his bad joke.

“I like it,” Will said, not being able to help himself, so he cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s… it’s a good look on you,” he added quickly. “I look like a homeless person when I let my hair grow… Like right now.”

He ran a hand through is hair while he said it, because it was true. He had neglected it because he had had other things to worry about, and it was longer than he ever remembered having it.

“It’s not that bad, but you do look better with your hair shorter. It frames your features in a pleasing manner.”

Will looked at him again and wondered if he had just said to him that he was beautiful, but he just nodded a little, not sure of what to answer.

He took a shower while Hannibal went to the kitchen, and then they both ate their respective breakfasts in the living room. They had been doing that since Will had found out that Hannibal hadn’t been eating properly. Hannibal still cooked for him, and sometimes ate some of it with him, but most of the times he just brought the food from the Hospital there and then they ate together. In those occasions, Will then expanded his mind towards him so Hannibal could savor the food he was eating. That also meant that Will would receive the flavor of Hannibal’s food, which in his defense, was _pretty_ bad, but he endured it and that way it was like the two of them were eating both meals, tasting one or the other intermittently.

Will still didn’t quite understand how on earth the connection worked, but he had decided that he wasn’t going to question that anymore... As Hannibal had said, maybe the things they could make with it were more interesting than the how or the why.

****

“Okay, this is the last one,” he said, carrying a box into the house.

Alana nodded and went out to close the car, so he went inside and directly upstairs, where Abigail’s new room was. Alana lived in a two-story house in Baltimore, which was more than spacious enough for two people. When he went upstairs, he found the room she had given to Abigail and there she was, surrounded by half-opened boxes. But she was in the middle of the room, staring at the empty walls.

“Hey,” Will said, and she turned around a little startled by the sound of his voice. “This is the last box.”

He raised the box a little, and she thanked him and took it from his arms. She sat on the floor and resumed the task of opening the boxes and taking things out.

“Do you… want some help with that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, it’s okay,” she said, shaking his head without looking at him.

“Abigail,” Will said, and he crouched in front of her. “Are you okay?”

She finally looked at him and frowned a little, but she nodded.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just… I just realized I’m never going to go back to… you know. My old life,” she admitted, and she pursed her lips, probably trying no to cry. “Oh god, I’m such a fool… I know I should be glad for what Alana is doing for me, but…”

“Hey, hey, Abigail, you are _not_ a fool, okay? It’s normal to be scared of changes,” he told her, touching her shoulder. “Your life has been… _really_ difficult lately. And now you’re starting a new life, so… it’s completely okay for you to feel like that.”

A tear rolled on her cheek, but she leaned forwards and hugged him, and he wrapped her in his arms for a few seconds. When they pulled back, she smiled a little and nodded.

“Thanks…” she said, and he shook his head a little, telling her it was nothing with the gesture.

“So… We’ll be downstairs if you need anything, okay?” he said, guessing that she probably wanted to be alone in that moment, and she thanked him again.

When he went down, Alana was organizing the kitchen, since she had stopped to do some grocery shopping before picking up Abigail on the facility. He just nodded to her and started helping her, even though he didn’t know where most of the things went.

“Leave that, it’s okay, I’ll finish it later,” she told him when he raised a package of pasta, not knowing where to put it. “Do you want a glass of wine, or a beer, or anything else?” she asked, opening the fridge.

“A beer, why not,” he said, trying to remember the last time he had had one and not being able to. He had grown accustomed to Hannibal’s wines and now he usually drank that with every meal.

She gave him the beer and served a glass of wine for her.

“Not a beer person?” he asked her while he opened it with the help of a bottle opener that Alana gave him.

He realized how his question could be interpreted and he pursed his lips, because Hannibal would’ve laughed if he had been there.

“I actually was, but…” she said, and she made a pause in which she seemed to be remembering something. “Let’s just say that a bad experience made me loathe it…”

Will didn’t know what she meant, so he just nodded and gulped the beer.

“So… how is she doing?” Alana asked him while she leaned in the counter beside him, and he sensed by her inflection that she was nervous. “I know she opens up to you more than she does with me,” she shrugged, and Will smiled a little.

“She’ll be fine, but… It’s a big change, it’s going to be a while until she gets used to it.”

“Yeah, I know…” she said, taking a sip from her glass of wine.

“Alana,” he called her, so she would look at him. “I know it’s a big change for you too, but I’ll help you both in everything I can, okay?”

She smiled a little and nodded, but then she chuckled.

“Wait, did we _just_ change our roles for a second? Me worrying, you telling me that Abigail will be fine…”

Will laughed and he shook his head a little.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to psychoanalyze you.”

They laughed and he drank from his bear again and leaned back on the counter.

“Okay, seriously I… Thanks, Will,” she told him. “Really.”

“It’s nothing. I really care about her. She’s… my friend, I guess. And you, too,” he said, because it was kind of true.

Will didn’t care for Alana as much as he did for Abigail, but he still considered her a friend at some degree, especially when she wasn’t on psychiatric duty. He had meant to say it lightly, but then he felt Alana’s look fixed on him, so he looked at her and saw that she was suddenly serious. He was going to ask her if he had said something wrong when she moved closer to him and suddenly kissed him. It took him a second to register what was happening, but when he felt Alana’s hand on his neck, he put his free hand on her shoulder and pushed her a little, moving his head backwards and breaking the contact.

The second they were apart, she immediately seemed to regret it.

“Alana, I…”

“Oh my god, I’m _so_ sorry.”

“No, it’s… Don’t worry,” he said, unsure of what to say.

“No, I… I _really_ didn’t want to do that. I mean, “she quickly added, probably realizing how that sounded. “The time couldn’t be worse, you wouldn’t be good for me and I wouldn’t be good for you, I know it, so I didn’t know why I did that... I’m so sorry,” she repeated, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“It’s okay, really,” he said, feeling uncomfortable not only because of the situation, but also because of Alana’s words, and he ended up laughing a little without being able to help it. “I just…”

He fell silent, unsure of what he had been about to say, and then her eyes widened.

“Oh god, you are seeing someone,” she said, and she sounded even more sorry.

Hannibal’s image came into his mind the second she said it, though he still opened his mouth ready to deny it… But he couldn’t.

“I… No, I mean. I… Don’t know?”

He took another sip from the beer just so he had an excuse to stop talking, and in that moment Abigail appeared in the kitchen.

“Hey,” she said, and she seemed much more cheerful than before.

Will and Alana nodded to her and then they drank from their respective drinks.

****

Once Will had changed into his pajamas, he went to the bedroom and Hannibal was there, examining the book Will had on his nightstand, even though he couldn’t even remember which one was.

He went under the sheets and sighed, glad to finally rest after having spent the whole day outside. Hannibal left the book back on the nightstand and then he also lay down. Will looked at him and couldn’t help to stare at the uniform again.

“You don’t have to sleep in that, you know?” Will told him.

“Do you want me to take it off?” he asked, and Will frowned. He tried to make his voice sound toneless, but Hannibal had curved his lips upwards before saying it, so it still sounded _flirtatious_.

“Don’t make it sound like that… I’m just… Whatever, sleep in that forever if you want.”

He rolled over in the mattress with his back to him and stared at the wardrobe. But then the mattress trembled and the setting changed around him, and he found himself facing a white wall. He turned around and saw that they were in the room in Baltimore, and he was taking the uniform off, so he immediately felt himself blushing and he looked at the ceiling. He could still see him getting undressed out of the corner of his eye, and he couldn’t help to look once, only to quickly avert his eyes again when he started taking his undershirt off too. Finally he opted to close his eyes, and he kept them like that until the mattress trembled again.

When he opened his eyes they were back in his room and Hannibal was already lying down with the sheets covering him up to the waist. But Will still could see his bare chest and arms, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen him half naked before, but everything was different now, and he had to make himself look away again.

But then, probably to test him, Hannibal moved closer to him, _almost_ touching him, and inhaled through his nose. Will felt his heartbeats going faster.

“You smell of Alana,” Hannibal told him in a voice that seemed calm, but Will sensed the inflection; he sounded displeased.

“Yeah, I’ve spent the day with her and Abigail,” he reminded him, even though Hannibal already knew that.

Hannibal hadn’t appeared since that morning, and he had been grateful for that, since he didn’t feel like juggling his attention between people.

“No, you smell _a lot_ of her.”

He immediately remembered the kiss, and his heart skipped a beat. Will thought of closing his mind a little so he wouldn’t know it, but then he changed his mind. He turned to look at him and shrugged a little, trying not to let his closeness affect him.

“She kissed me,” he said, plainly.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows and smiled a little, but he knew that it had hurt him, at least a little, which had been his intention.

“And did you… kiss her back?”

Will then rolled over on the mattress again with his back to him, and turned the lights off.

“You don’t get to know that,” he told him, aware that his answer would make him suffer.

He intended to let him wonder, let him with the doubt of whether he had corresponded Alana’s kiss or not, but he sensed his distress and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He wanted Hannibal to suffer for everything he had done to him, even if it was through small punishments like that, but it was starting to be really difficult…

Will finally faced him again and looked at him for a moment. Hannibal was looking up, probably avoiding his gaze, with his left hand on top of his chest. Will hesitated, and he was about to roll over again, but he finally sighed and moved closer to him, rested his chin on his shoulder and put his hand on top of Hannibal’s, where they interlaced their fingers together. Will closed his eyes and felt Hannibal’s lips on his forehead, and they stayed like that.

“I didn’t…” he finally whispered.

He felt Hannibal stretching his lips on a smile, and Will squeezed his hand a little.

****

That night, he woke up kicking the sheets and panting, trying to breathe. He looked around him and started to relax a little when he saw that he was in his room, and not in the woods, hunting down a woman like he had been dreaming about.

He got out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom, where he splashed some water on his face and drank a little, and then he returned to the bedroom to change his soaked t-shirt. It was the first nightmare he had had since he had let Hannibal come back, since sleeping next to him usually helped him with the dreams. But Hannibal wasn’t there with him all the time, so a nightmare as bad as that one was bound to slip in sooner or later. When he returned to the bed, he wasn’t surprised to find him there, resting his weight on his left elbow and looking at him. Will just went back under the sheets and closed his eyes while he sighed, feeling the cool fabric of the clean t-shirt on his back.

“I’m fine…” he said to him, since he could still feel Hannibal’s gaze fixed on him.

Will finally looked at him, and he lay down on the mattress and opened his arms.

“Come here,” he told him, and Will shook his head.

“No, I’m all sweaty from the nightmare,” he said, since it was true. He had washed his face and changed his shirt, but he knew that that wasn’t enough.

He had always been ashamed of his condition when it came to the few times in his life that he had shared a bed with another person. He had eventually accepted it, but that didn’t mean he was okay with the idea of Hannibal feeling all his sweat and tolerating it just because Will would sleep better while touching him.

“Will… I don’t mind a little sweat.”

He frowned a little and shook his head again, but less convinced. He still felt his muscles tensed up and his nerves on edge, and he _knew_ that Hannibal’s touch would soothe him. He _craved_ his touch…

“Come,” Hannibal repeated, and maybe he was wrong, but Will thought he sounded more pleading than authoritative.

Will finally sighed again and gave up. He rolled over and put his hand on Hannibal’s shoulder, but looked at him before letting his body fall over his, as if asking him again with a look if he was sure. Hannibal answered by putting his hand on his back and pulling him to his chest, making him lie down.

Will stood very still at fist, but then Hannibal wiped his forehead with a hand, brushing his damp curls back, and Will felt immediately relieved. He still expanded his mind towards him and didn’t feel disgust in Hannibal’s, so he finally relaxed in his arms.

When he woke up, he stretched out and he hugged him while he yawned… And then he realized that he was actually touching someone, and more specifically, he was cuddling someone, so he raised his head and opened his eyes. Hannibal returned his gaze, and smiled a little. Will rolled over so he was facing up, and he let his head fall between the pillow and Hannibal’s biceps.

“What are you doing here?” he said, rubbing his eyes.

“Do you want me to go?”

“That’s not what I said…” Will said, avoiding the question. “When we both fall asleep, we always return to our rooms.”

Hannibal didn’t say anything else right away, so Will turned a little to meet his eyes, and he noticed then the rings under his eyes. He knew what had happened a second before he actually said it.

“I didn’t fall asleep again.”

“Sorry…” Will said, sighing.

He didn’t answer, but Hannibal didn’t look bothered by the fact that he had woken him up in the middle of the night and he hadn’t been able to fall back asleep.

In that moment Hannibal tried to move, so Will raised his head to release his arm, and then they stayed face to face, lay on each of their sides. Will observed him for a moment, but then his gaze fell on Hannibal’s left shoulder, and even though he was resting on it, he could still see the thin and pink scar. He didn’t think too much when he raised a hand and touched it, tracing it with his index and feeling the line under his fingertip.

“Why did you do it?” Will asked, and then he looked at him in the eyes, still touching his skin. “You did it afterwards yourself, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he said, confirming what he already knew.

“Why?”

“Because… When you cut me, I _actually_ felt it.”

“I did too, through the connection I guess. I was so confused…” he said in a whisper, remembering that day. He had gone to bed that night drowning in the fever and the confusion, but he still remembered it vividly.

“I was, too… But I couldn’t stand not having your mark on my skin.”

Will looked at the scar again, and he smiled a little. He actually liked the idea that Hannibal considered it _his_ mark. And in a way, it was. Hannibal wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t cut him that night… So even if Will couldn’t have done the scar himself, physically, it was his; Hannibal was marked _by him_.

“I have one from you, too,” Will said, looking at him in the eyes without losing his smile.

Hannibal furrowed his brow for half a second, but then Will faced the ceiling to be able to show him properly, and he stretched the neck of his t-shirt so his right shoulder would be exposed. The scar that Tobias Budge had left him was there, the wound completely cured even though sometimes it still hurt if he tried to carry too much weight or if he put pressure on it. Hannibal extended his hand and, exactly like Will had done, he drew the line of the mark with his thumb. Will tried to control his heartbeats when the other man touched him, but he always made his heart go faster, as slight as the touch was.

“You didn’t do it with your own hands, but… It’s almost yours,” Will told him, and he wasn’t angry or bitter about it.

Hannibal looked at him in the eyes and smiled tiredly.

“Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real… And this one finally made you see the reality.”

He left his hand there while they looked at each other for a few seconds, and then Will let the neck of his shirt go, and the contact was broken.

“You should go to your room and get some sleep,” he said while he got up from the bed.

“You don’t want me to prepare breakfast to you?”

“I think I can manage by myself for one day,” he assured him, amused by his concern, and then Will disappeared into the bathroom.

When he went back out, Hannibal was gone, and he let himself breathe a little, because lately each and every one of their interactions were too intense.

That day, he decided to make the most of his Sunday, so after breakfast, he started by taking the dogs for a long walk. He worked a little in the classes he would teach the next day, he did a little cleaning and then he prepared himself a simple lunch. After that, he went to take firewood from the cabin outside and he discovered that he had less logs than he had expected. He still had the uncut trees he always bought, since it was cheaper to buy them like that, so he decided to chop some of them before the sun set and it started to get colder. He took his axe and a few of the uncut trees and started chopping them by the cabin. He was almost finished when he sensed the change, and he turned around with the axe in his hands and breathing heavily from the effort. Hannibal was leaning against the porch’s handrail, and he was hugging himself, because the uniform wasn’t made to protect him from that cold. He looked much more rested than that morning.

“I’m almost finished,” he told him, and he rolled the axe in his hands. “You can go inside.”

Will turned around and resumed what he was doing, but he knew that Hannibal hadn’t gone inside even though the connection allowed him to. Will knew he was observing him, so he smiled and kept chopping the firewood, too aware of his gaze, but also pleased for his attention. When he finished, he turned around and saw that Hannibal had the hint of a smile on his lips, so he shook his head a little, trying not to blush or let him know that his heart was racing again and it was partly his fault.

He stored the axe and most of the logs in the cabin with his help, and then they both took a few inside the house. Once Will managed to light a fire, he rubbed his hands together and blew hot air into them, since he was freezing from the time he had spent outside. He hadn’t noticed at first, but when he had finished chopping the firewood the sun had almost completely set.

“Do you want a glass of whisky to get warm?” Hannibal asked him when Will stood up beside the fireplace.

“I think I need to get a shower first. But feel free to drink one meanwhile…” he told him while he took his coat off and walked towards his bedroom.

“Don’t worry, I won’t start without you, Will,” Hannibal told him.

Will froze with his hand on the doorknob, because it wasn’t exactly what he had said, but the _tone_ in which he had said it. He turned to look at him for a second and Hannibal was smiling widely showing his teeth, not even bothering to hide how that had sounded. Will tried to conceal how he was feeling, but that time was impossible, so he went into the bedroom as quickly as he could. When he was in the shower, he couldn’t stop thinking about him, and that led him to so he remember the time Hannibal had gone into the shower and touched him like nobody had ever before. Will closed his mind a little so he wouldn’t sense it, but a part of his mind actually wished he _would_ feel his arousal and entered the shower in that moment and that he would touch him again. He imagined his hands touching him, his fingers trailing up his back, making him shiver with pleasure… But he quickly dismissed the idea. He wasn’t ready for that, not so soon, not when a part of him was still mad at him, and not when the idea of letting another man touch him like that still petrified him. Because when Hannibal had touched him in the shower it had been completely different; he still thought he was a hallucination, even if it had felt more real than anything ever. But there was something else, and it was that back then he didn’t _feel_ how he did now. Everything was much more complicated, much more intimate now. When he had let Hannibal back into his life, he had feared that the other man would be too straightforward, that he would try to make a move too fast. Will probably wouldn’t have rejected him even though he knew he wasn’t ready… But Hannibal wasn’t doing that at all; he was behaving impeccably, giving him as much space as he needed, respecting the boundaries he set, even when they had kissed...

Will tried to take Hannibal off his mind a little, so he turned the water a bit colder and rested his forehead against the tiles of the shower, and he stayed like that until his erection lowered.

When he went into the living room having spent in the shower more than he usually did, he saw that Hannibal was already cooking something with a Johnny Cash song sounding in the speakers, and he smiled a little. He walked slowly to him, observing how he moved the knife while he sliced the meat on the cutting board, and the way the muscles of his exposed forearms tensed with the movements. When he was close, he let the uniform’s ripples on his back hypnotize him like it had already done so many times before. He recalled again the first time he touched him, how incredible and impossible everything had felt to him. It seemed like it had been a lifetime ago…

Will raised his hand and, after a second of hesitation, he touched him right in the center of his back, where it began curving. Hannibal immediately froze and the sound of the knife stopped. Hannibal turned a little to look at him.

“Sorry, does it bother you?” Will asked him without removing his hand.

“Not at all. You just surprise me sometimes.”

Will knew that he meant it as something good, and he couldn’t repress a smile when Hannibal returned to what he was doing. Will knew that Hannibal had power over him, but he thought again about what he had thought on the shower, of how Hannibal was restraining himself so much… And he wondered if Hannibal had restrained himself before like that for someone else, and if that was the power Will had over _him_.

“Do you want to help me with these?” Hannibal asked him, pointing the knife at a pile of mushrooms on the counter.

“Sure.”

He finally moved his hand from Hannibal’s back and started chopping them like Hannibal told him to. While he was doing that, he kept thinking about it and he tried to hold the words, but eventually he couldn’t stop himself.

“You… never touch me unless I touch you first, don’t you?”

Hannibal had been seasoning the meat, but he stopped and looked at him. Will didn’t stop chopping the mushrooms, but he could see him out of the corner of his eye.

“No, I don’t.”

“Why…?”

Will kept cutting; he didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to look at him while they discussed something like that… But when the other didn’t reply right away, he had to stop and return his gaze.

“Because I want you to feel safe, and I want you to know that you can trust me. And right now I know that this is what you need.”

Will’s heart started beating faster, and he tried to ignore it to be able to speak again.

“Trust is a very strong word…”

“I think ours is a very strong bond. Wouldn’t you say the same?”

He wondered for a moment if they were just talking about trust, but he averted his eyes, unable to hold his gaze. He started chopping the mushrooms again, even if almost all of them were already cut.

“May _I_ ask you something now?”

Will finally left the knife on the counter and moved the cutting board with the chopped mushrooms closer to Hannibal, who had finished with the meat already.

“Why not?”

Hannibal washed his hands on the sink and then he turned to look at him again while he dried them.

“You almost never touch me unless it’s nighttime.”

“No…”

“Why?” Hannibal asked curving his lips a little upwards, because he was almost mirroring the previous conversation.

Will turned around and rested his lower back on the counter. He bit his lip and considered not answering that question either, but he actually knew the answer to that one.

“Because… because it’s easier. It was even easier when I thought you were a hallucination.”

“Why?” he asked again, leaving the towel on the counter and taking a step towards him.

“Because now that I know that you’re real, and that my feelings…” he made a pause, and he closed his eyes for a second. “That in some way they’re real too, and not some trick of my mind... now it’s harder to actually face everything. And the darkness helps...”

When Will finally looked at him, he was closer than he had expected. He could even smell him, and he ran his eyes from his chest, to his neck, to his lips and finally to his eyes.

“Helps how?”

He knew that Hannibal was pushing him a little, testing his limits, but Will wasn’t angry for that, not that time, so he just chuckled a little.

“Helps with facing some things. Up until this connection, I thought… I thought I was straight.”

Will felt his heart hammering on his chest, because he had finally said it out loud, they were actually having _that_ conversation. Hannibal smiled and moved even closer to him but not touching him at all.

“Sexual orientation doesn’t have to be a fixed thing, Will. It can be unpredictable, and it can change and evolve… Just like people.”

Will sensed again that Hannibal wasn’t talking just about one thing, and he knew that he was talking about him.

Will moved a little closer to him and raised his chin, and his nose brushed Hannibal’s. He let his mind expand towards him, closed his eyes and stayed like that, listening to his own heart beating too fast, feeling their breaths mingle and their lips brushing a little, but never really touching.

Hannibal didn’t move at all, and when Will opened his eyes, he smiled, because he was also testing him, pushing his limits… Will moved backwards, bending his back to the counter, since Hannibal was so close it was impossible to move otherwise, and then he touched briefly Hannibal on the stomach before retiring to the living room.

When they were having dinner an hour later, they both looked at each other and smiled, and Will had to look down after a second. In that moment, he thought about doing that every day of his life, and it felt strangely comforting.

Will had always thought he was alone in the world, and he had even accepted it. But now he had Hannibal, and maybe he had found a similar soul. And they weren’t only _connected_ to each other; Will felt like Hannibal could _see_ him and he was beginning to truly see Hannibal, and Will had never felt so understood. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the connection sometimes, but it wasn’t even the thing that allowed them to appear beside each other being separated by miles, or what allowed them to _feel_ what the other felt… It was about the comprehension, the awareness. Hannibal _got_ him, even the parts of himself that he refused to let out, and Will was sure that Hannibal had never let anyone see him as Will did.

Will _knew_ that it should feel wrong, considering who Hannibal was and especially what he had done to him. But then, why did it feel _so_ right…?

****

The following week went by too quickly, wrapped in the routine they had developed, even though it didn’t feel like routine at all. Will and Hannibal kept dancing around each other, testing each other and playing around until Will felt that they had reached a barrier that he wasn’t ready to climb just yet. But Hannibal kept respecting every unspoken boundary he marked, and Will kept silently thanking him for that.

Finally, the weekend came again and they were both on the living room; Will finishing grading a paper from his students and Hannibal watching TV. Will was sitting on his couch, but he had moved it a little closer to the wooden table and to Hannibal, and he had his feet on top of the couch where the other was. Hannibal had let his left hand fall on Will’s ankles, and he was absently running his thumb on the short space of bare skin between the pajama pants and the socks. It was such a small thing, but Will had been trying to read the same paragraph from one of his students’ papers for the last five minutes without managing it. He finally sighed and looked away from the papers, giving up, so he left them aside. He noticed then that Hannibal was changing the channels almost too fast to even see if he was interested in the content.

Will observed him for a while, the way he was pursing his lips a little, and how his brow was furrowed because he was focused on the screen. And he looked at the hand over his ankle, and the way he kept drawing circles with his finger probably without even noticing. Or maybe he did, maybe he was _very_ conscious of it and of the effect it had on him, and that was exactly why he was doing it…

“…our next guest…”

“…was standing right here…”

“…the engine failed and…”

“…what they believe it’s the fourth victim…”

“…can’t believe what…!”

“Wait,” Will said, raising his gaze to the screen. “Can you back up?”

Hannibal didn’t answer, but he went backwards and left the previous channel.

“…that could be linked. The FBI hasn’t released an official statement yet, but everything suggest that it is the same killer, since all the victims were murdered in the same way,” the reporter on TV said, and Will felt his heart pounding on his ears. He sat up, taking his feet off Hannibal’s couch. “All four women were kidnapped leaving an item of clothing as the only evidence, they were kept somewhere and finally they were murdered, skinned and tossed in a river, just as the last victim was found. Although further details are…”

Will looked away, because they were starting to show pictures of the victims, and he couldn’t see them. He ran both his hands through his hair, and then Hannibal turned the TV off and observed him from the couch, but he didn’t pressure him. Will focused to even his breathing, and when he finally felt a little like himself again, he looked up at him and saw that he seemed concerned.

“I’m okay, it’s just…”

“I know,” Hannibal told him, because he didn’t need to explain to him how he felt when he saw something like that.

His imagination had started working the second he had heard the few details about the murders, and there was nothing he could do in those cases, except to let it happen and wait until the images slipped out of his mind.

Will hugged himself, because suddenly the heat from the fireplace didn’t seem to reach him, so Hannibal stood up and Will moved aside so he could sit next to him. When he did, Will immediately let his head fall on his shoulder, feeling instantly better with the touch. Hannibal wrapped him with his arms around his shoulder and Will raised his head a little until he touched Hannibal’s neck with his nose.

“Do you think he will come?”

Will understood his question without needing more words, and he felt his stomach clenching with apprehension.

“Maybe…”

But he was lying, because he was almost sure that he would appear sooner or later. _He_ would surely think of him once they couldn’t solve the case, and four victims was already something too serious. It would be too important, too pressing to respect his wish of not working on the field anymore…

He knew it was just a matter of time before Jack would return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, it's update day, finally!! I seriously missed updating the fic last week! :_)  
> The next update will also be in two weeks, and then I'll decide if I go back to chapter-per-week or not, but it's actually been a very productive two weeks, so even if I missed updating A LOT, I got to advance quite a lot for the next chapters :)
> 
> About the end of the chapter... something's coming! :)
> 
> And as always, I really really want to thank you for reading, for all your comments and sweet words, and just for everything!! How can all of you be so sweet?? ♥
> 
>  
> 
> Songs!
> 
> In the chapter:  
> · Mozart's [Concerto for Violin and Orchestra No. 5 in A major, K.219 “Turkish” - Adagio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kzw932RBEH8&spfreload=10) (the song that sounds in Hannibal's mind palace while he's totally seducing Will... heheh)  
> · [I Walk the Line](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lq0fUa0vW_E), Johnny Cash (this song, though. I think maybe I would've named the fic after this song if we had thought about it before I started publishing, but we thought about this scene afterwards, so... :_) )
> 
> In the playlist:  
> · [Reunion](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DJQQrjVmQG0), M83  
> · [Bloodstream](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3b1CDLsiGU), Stateless


	14. Fourteen

He was staring at the carpet, because he had discovered a hole on it. It was very small and he was sure that the carpet would probably had other imperfections and even tears; it was something inevitable with the passage of time and having so many dogs… But he couldn’t stop looking at that one, wondering how long had it been there and how couldn’t he have noticed it before. But in that moment, he raised his gaze and realized that Hannibal was talking. His lips were moving, but he hadn’t heard a word of what he had said.

“I… I’m sorry, what?”

Hannibal smiled a little, knowing that he hadn’t been listening to him.

“I was saying that you look good with that haircut.”

Will furrowed his brow for a second, but then he remembered that he _had_ had a haircut that afternoon after the classes he had taught that morning, so he touched his hair and nodded.

“Oh, yeah. I… thanks,” he said.

He felt himself blushing a little with Hannibal’s compliment, so he looked down... But Will’s mind quickly returned to the murders, and he closed his eyes, sighing. He had been unable to focus on anything else since he had heard about them on TV two nights before. He just couldn’t get them out of his mind… The murders, and the idea that Jack would probably return sooner or later, looking for his help… and the waiting was unbearable.

“Wine?” Hannibal asked him then, standing up from his couch and leaving Buster on the floor.

Will hadn’t noticed the dog on his lap, so he wondered how long had he been there, and if Hannibal had picked him up himself. But whatever the case, Will had noticed that he seemed to have a predilection for the smaller dog.

“Sure…”

He came back with two glasses of wine, and after he gave Will one, he sat again and smelled the drink before sipping it.

That night, Will was lying down in his bed staring at the ceiling in the darkness, unable to fall asleep. He turned to look at the clock, which told him it was 4:14, so he sighed and ran his hands through his face.

“You can’t sleep?”

His voice startled him a little, since Will had thought that he was already asleep, but it made sense that he couldn’t sleep if he sensed his uneasiness.

“No, sorry… You should go back to your room so I don’t bother you,” Will told him when he turned to look at him.

“No,” Hannibal replied, simply. “But perhaps I could do something to help you sleep.”

Will sighed again and rolled over to rest his forehead on his shoulder. He hadn’t wanted to disturb him when he had thought he was asleep, but the moment he touched him, he felt a little better.

“Okay…” he told him, although he was more focused on feeling Hannibal than in what he was saying.

Will moved his hand to his chest, where he left it after stroking him with his thumb.

“Do you really want me to?”

“Yeah…”

He moved his head a little, until he was touching Hannibal’s shoulder with his cheek, and his neck with his forehead. In that moment, he felt Hannibal moving a little closer to him, too, but he didn’t open his eyes or moved his head away from him, believing he was going to embrace him tightly… But then, he felt Hannibal’s hand palming his crotch, and Will jerked a little, caught completely off guard. He grabbed Hannibal by the wrist and moved his hand away, but he immediately felt an erection rising in his underpants, and his breath got caught in his throat.

“What…?” Will started asking, but he stopped right away, because he knew very well what he was doing. “Not… that,” he said in between shaky breaths.

“It will definitely help you sleep, Will,” the other said, and he wasn’t looking at his face, but he could almost feel the smile in his voice.

“I know, but… No,” he said, and he finally let Hannibal’s hand go and rolled over, facing the ceiling again and putting a little distance between them. “Besides, don’t think that I’ll forgive you because you do that.”

Hannibal was the one who rolled over that time, until he was on his side, closer to him, but he didn’t try to touch him again.

“You might…”

“Yes, I actually might,” he admitted, contradicting what he had just said. “But I don’t want to think back and remember that this is why I did it,” he said, and finally he looked at him, and even though it was dark, he still could see him smiling. “I actually want it to _mean_ something.”

“The sex… or the forgiveness?”

Will frowned for a moment, and then he shook his head a little.

“Just… shut up.”

Will put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back to the mattress until he was on his original position. He lay down again on his shoulder, that time with Hannibal’s arm wrapping him around his back, and he stayed still until he felt his breathing going back to normal. And then, his eyelids finally started closing.

****

_They had to wait for another week. Will kept going to teach his classes, pretending everything was normal, but he kept being edgy and unsettled, constantly with his mind elsewhere. Hannibal kept trying to take his mind off and doing everything they had gotten used to do when they were together, but the other’s emotions started affecting him because of the connection, and he also felt the uneasiness the waiting caused Will._

_The following week he put on the news while Will was in the shower, and he saw the latest news on Buffalo Bill, as the news had started calling the serial killer: they had found another girl, a fifth victim. When the water stopped running, he turned it off and leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes for a second. Hannibal didn’t tell Will anything, but he knew that it was just a matter of time._

_The next day, they were having breakfast in silence when the dogs stood up from their beds and he heard a car approaching the house. He looked at Will and saw how tense he was, his jaw clenching and grabbing the fork with too much force. Hannibal put his hand over Will’s on top of the table, which made the other focus on him. Will blinked a couple of times, loosening the grip on the fork, and then he nodded to him and they stood up at the same time. Hannibal took every sign of his presence to the kitchen, where he put it all away while Will approached the door. Then, he joined him the moment he opened the door and stepped outside, letting the dogs go out._

_“Will…” Jack started saying, and he pursed his lips, as a way of telling him that he was sorry for his presence._

_But Hannibal knew Jack Crawford wasn’t sorry at all. He was doing his job, and he was capable of doing_ anything _necessary. And that included dragging Will with him into the darkness once again._

_“Jack,” the other greeted him, in a flat tone._

_“I guess you know why I’m here.”_

_“I do…” he said, avoiding looking at him in the eyes, and he just turned around and stepped back into the house, leaving the door open._

_Once Jack went inside walking by Hannibal, obviously not looking in his direction, Will whistled and the dogs started returning._

_“There’s nothing I can say that will make you turn around and go before you say what you’ve come to say, is there?” Will told him with the hand still on the doorknob._

_Hannibal smiled a little, but all he was feeling was Will’s uneasiness, so he wasn’t able to properly enjoy Will’s bluntness._

_“You know I can’t do that, Will,” Jack told him, so he finally closed the door._

_He offered him a cup of coffee but Jack refused. Will sat on his couch and Jack took Hannibal’s, so he sat on a chair at the table and observed them._

_“All business, then,” Will told him, resting his elbows on his thighs._

_Jack just took a stack of papers out of the briefcase he was carrying, and he left it on the wooden table, between them. Will looked at them, but he showed no intention of moving to take them._

_“I assume you’ve heard the news. We found the fifth girl yesterday,” Jack told him, and Will closed his eyes for a moment, because he hadn’t known about that. “Same MO; kidnapped her in a parking lot, left only her blouse behind, kept her alive for three days and then he killed her, skinned her and dumped her in a different river as the others. We are running out of leads to follow...”_

_Will leaned back on the couch and sighed, still not touching the files._

_“You know what you’re asking me for, right?”_

_“I am aware, believe me,” Jack told him._

_“Are you?” Will asked him, almost challenging him._

_“I_ am _… But I need to borrow your imagination again, Will. It may be the only thing that can stop this guy before he kidnaps another girl.”_

_Will didn’t say anything else; instead, he turned a little while he rubbed his lower lip with a finger, a gesture that Jack could interpret as him thinking… but he actually did it so he could look at Hannibal for a moment, and he held his gaze when he did it._

_“Look, Will…,” Jack started saying again when the other didn’t answer to him, getting up from the couch and standing beside Will. “Take a look a the files, think about it… and let me know by tomorrow morning. I hope you make the right choice.”_

_Jack put a hand on Will’s shoulder and Hannibal felt the anger rising from the pit of his stomach, but he remained seated._

_“I’ll see myself out.”_

_Hannibal followed Jack with his gaze until he got out of the house; he then heard the car’s door opening and closing, and finally, the sound of the car’s engine slowly died, getting far away from them. Only then did he stand up from the chair and sat on his couch. Will was in the exact same position as Jack had left him; he was resting his elbow on the couch’s armrest, and his head on his hand… and he was staring at the files on the wooden table._

_“You could say no to him.”_

_His voice finally seemed to bring him back to reality, because he blinked and looked at him. It pained him when he saw the sadness in his eyes, and he knew what his answer was going to be before he sat up and shook his head._

_“You know I can’t.”_

_Will moved closer to the edge of the couch, and he touched the files for the first time. He turned them so they would be facing him, and he opened them. The first page was full of unimportant details about the case, but Hannibal knew what Will was looking for: the pictures. They would be the thing that would definitely set his mind. Hannibal put his hand on top of Will’s over the table before he could turn another page, and he stopped and looked at him again._

_“Is there_ any _possibility that you don’t go through with this? Any at all?” he asked him._

_Will frowned a little, but shook his head slowly, and in that moment, his uneasiness made him seem five years younger. Hannibal pursed his lips and sighed._

_“Very well. In that case…” he started saying, and he let Will’s hand go. “I believe I can help you.”_

_“Help me?”_

_“With the case,” he clarified._

_Will furrowed his brow and he was going to ask something, but then, maybe through their connection or perhaps because he figured it out, he looked from him to the case files, and then back at Hannibal._

_“Do you know who this killer is?”_

_“I may have someone in mind.”_

_“And you didn’t tell me…” Will said, and Hannibal nodded, even though that could mean that he would be mad at him again, but Will’s expression remained the same. “Because you didn’t want me to take the case.”_

_“Yes,” he nodded, feeling his chest swelling, because he had understood him without the necessity of words. “Although I have one condition.”_

_Will smiled a little, even though the joy didn’t reach his eyes._

_“Of course you do. And what would that be?”_

_“I will help you with the case… But we will only discuss it in Baltimore.”_

When he said that, Will’s heart raced in his chest, and he had to lean backwards on the couch.

“In the Hospital?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Hannibal nodded once again, and he held his gaze.

Going to see Hannibal, meeting him in person… The last time they had talked about that, he had told him he wasn’t ready, and it had been true. But when he thought about it in that moment, he actually felt thrilled at the possibility. The fear was still there, underneath, but he knew that he was ready then, as ready as he could ever be for something like that.

“Okay.”

“You will come to see me?” Hannibal asked, and Will had to repress a smile at the hopeful tone in his voice.

“I will.”

“Have in mind that I do not know his name. I only met him once and he used a false name. But I will help you so you can find out who he is.”

Will sighed a little, but he still nodded. Hannibal’s eyes shone with a smile, and Will couldn’t help to smile too, but he looked down. Will guessed that the reason why Hannibal had met the killer that the news had named as Buffalo Bill was through his work as a psychiatrist, and it made sense that someone like that man hadn’t given him his real name.

Since he didn’t have to teach any classes that day, he tried to occupy himself that morning with whatever he could do. He took the dogs for a long walk with Hannibal, and then he helped him in the kitchen at lunchtime. But on the afternoon, he decided that he was just prolonging the inevitable, so he finally sat on his couch with a glass of whisky and took the case files again. Hannibal appeared after a second, since he had been gone for an hour, and he sat on his couch and poured himself a whisky on the glass Will had already prepared for him.

They shared a last look, and Will finally opened the files. He read the few details they had of the murders, and then he started taking the pictures of the five girls and the places where they had been kidnapped and found, and he displayed them on the wooden table. He looked at them for a few seconds, and then Will closed his eyes…

He was in a parking lot, approaching a woman, probably deceiving her with some dirty trick like pretending to be injured or in need of help, until he was close enough to knock her out and take her, leaving no witnesses. He did the same on different places, different states even, but always taking them the same way, leaving behind a blouse, a shirt, a sweater, and no other sign of struggle. Then he retreated somewhere private, where he kept them for three days. Will then saw himself killing them, and he skinned them expertly and gently; the arms from a woman, the chest from a different one, the belly from another… Finally, he dumped them in a different river each time, far away from the place where he had taken them, far away from every place he had been before…

Will opened his eyes and gasped. Even though he would never forget how getting inside a killer’s mind felt like, absolutely nothing could ever prepare him for that. He took the glass of whisky with shaky hands, and drank the content it in a big gulp, and then he stood up and went to the kitchen. He left the glass on the sink and grabbed the counter with both hands, afraid that his legs couldn’t support him.

“Will…”

He felt Hannibal’s hand on his right shoulder, and he put his own hand on top of his, knowing that his touch would be the only thing that could make him feel a little bit more like himself again.

“I’m okay… I think I just need to lie down for a bit,” he told him, turning around and letting his hand fall.

Hannibal nodded, and then he walked him to his bedroom. Will couldn’t stop shaking, and he thought that it was one of the worst times that he remembered having after getting inside a killer’s mind. Maybe it was because it was the first case in a long time, but it was like it had drained all his energy, leaving him exhausted. He didn’t even bother stripping out of his clothes, so he went under the sheets with his pajama pants and a sweater, and he braced himself, unable to stop shaking. He sensed Hannibal tucking the sheets on his back, so he raised his gaze and saw that he was starting to go out of the room.

“Hannibal…” he called him, and the other turned around. “Stay with me?”

Will saw something changing in his eyes, and he didn’t have to wonder because he knew right away what his answer would be.

Hannibal went to him and got under the sheets. Will felt the mattress bending under his weight, and he rested his head on the pillow, facing the opposite way. When Hannibal had settled on the bed and Will knew that he wasn’t going to touch him unless he made the first approach, he moved his hand backwards and searched for Hannibal’s. He found it after touching his stomach and his arm, and then he grabbed his wrist and hauled to him. Hannibal understood what he wanted, so he embraced him from behind, his entire body pressed against Will’s. He left Hannibal’s hand on his own stomach, and then he intertwined their fingers together, and only then, he sighed of relief.

In that moment, he wondered how was it possible that it felt so right. Wrapped in the arms of a man who had lied and used him, who could easily have killed him, how could he feel safer there than anywhere else?

But he obviously knew the answer. He had felt Hannibal’s utter and absolute love, and he had realized his own feelings towards him, so he knew that those things were possible. And not only they were possible: they were the most natural thing in the world. He loved him with every cell of his body, and he ached for him every moment of his life now. Hannibal was the only person who _really_ knew him, and he was a part of himself that he had always missed without knowing it.

Will sighed and curled up against him, having finally stopped shaking. He felt Hannibal’s breathing on his neck, and he finally felt his muscles relaxing.

****

He called the university when he woke up the next morning to inform them that he wasn’t going to be able to teach his classes that day or the following days. They were obviously used to that, so they didn’t have any objections. After that, he took a shower and then he decided that he needed a shave so he could be at least decent. So he tied the towel around his waist and prepared everything. He lathered the shaving cream over his jaw and cheeks, and then he took the razor, but the moment the blades were about to touch his skin, he saw the right part of his face skinned on the mirror, and he stepped backwards, his hands shaking violently. He tried to even his breathing, and when he looked again at the mirror, he saw his skin peeling off, cut like Buffalo Bill’s victims.

Will left the razor on the sink and turned around trying to erase that picture from his mind. Two knocks on the bathroom door startled him, but he knew who that was right away.

“Come in,” he said in a low voice.

Hannibal appeared behind the door. His hair was loose, and he was zipping his uniform, so he knew he had come to him from his bed the moment he had felt his distress. Will bit his lower lip, still trying to stop it, but he couldn’t.

“May I?”

Will looked at him and then he understood what he meant. He hesitated for a second, but then he nodded, because it was clear that he wasn’t going to be able to do it himself.

Hannibal went into the bathroom and Will sat in the toilet seat cover so he wasn’t able to see his reflection in the mirror. The other took the razor and then, much to his surprise, he knelt in front of him. In that moment, Will thought that maybe he hadn’t thought that through, because he was about to let Hannibal shave him, which required him to touch him and to be _very_ close to him. But he didn’t have a lot of time to think, because he felt Hannibal’s hands on his knees, and his breath got caught up on his throat. Will did as the other asked him with a look, and he spread his legs so he could get closer. In that instant, Will became _very_ aware of his nakedness. He was wearing only a towel, and that seemed like nothing when he suddenly had Hannibal between his legs.

Hannibal then touched the back of his neck, careful not to sweep the shaving cream with his hand, and he made him bend his head backwards, leaving his neck completely exposed to him. But he didn’t feel, not even for a second, like he was in danger when the razor finally touched his skin. Hannibal expertly and slowly shaved him, stopping from time to time to clean the razor in the hot water Will had prepared in the sink. Will observed him when the posture allowed him to, and he saw how focused he was on the task, only looking from his neck to his eyes once, which made Will look away with his heart hammering on his chest. But he was very aware of his presence even when he wasn’t able to see him, and it would’ve been impossible not to. He felt the curve of Hannibal’s hips against his thighs, the weight of his left hand on this shoulder or neck, serving him as support, and he felt the gentle blade going through his skin, not cutting him even once.

When he finished, Hannibal left the razor on the edge of the sink, took the towel Will had prepared before, and started wiping the remaining cream away, so carefully that Will doubted he was cleaning it properly. Then, Hannibal left the towel aside and looked at him in the eyes, and Will had to swallow. He tried to stop himself, but he knew that, if he didn’t touch him in that moment, he would go crazy. So he did; he caressed Hannibal’s cheek with his palm, and he realized that he wasn’t shaking anymore, the images of Buffalo Bill’s murders out of his mind, even if it was only momentarily. Will smiled at the thought and at the feeling of his fingers against his warm skin, and Hannibal did so too.

He raised his hand to touch his hair, and he ran his fingers through it. Hannibal let him, not moving even an inch, and when Will lowered his hand again to his jaw, Hannibal even closed his eyes. Will then extended his mind towards him, and the amount of feelings that hit him and mingled with his own made him gasp a little, but Hannibal stayed with his eyes closed. Will let his hand fall to Hannibal’s chest, feeling his heartbeats both physically and through their connection.

“Thank you…” he whispered.

Hannibal looked at him then, and when he saw his half-closed eyes and his parted lips, the urge of kissing him hit Will like a punch in the gut, burning from the pit of his stomach, a savage and fierce feeling that made him fist Hannibal’s uniform. He looked at him and thought that, that time, he wasn’t going to be able to restrain himself, inevitably drawn to him… But in that moment, Hannibal rose a little, putting himself at his height, and he took his face in his hands as carefully as he had done everything else. He slowly leaned in, tilted his head, and then Will felt his lips grazing his. He closed his eyes and felt his heart hammering on his chest, the ardent feeling inside him burning even with more intensity. But Hannibal kissed him so gently, so tenderly that he didn’t lose control, and he didn’t feel the desperate need of touching him that he had felt in their previous kiss.

When Hannibal pulled backwards, Will loosened the grip of his fists but left his hands there, feeling the uniform and the other’s heartbeats beneath his palms. Then, Will looked at him in the eyes and noticed that he was much more calm than before. And he realized that Hannibal had done it exactly with that purpose: to anchor him. Will sometimes felt like the only thing that kept him from drifting away was him, and that moment he _knew_ , without any doubt, that if there was something that could help him not getting lost inside Buffalo Bill’s mind, it was Hannibal.

Will then also thought that they were about to see each other in person; he would have Hannibal in front of him, in the flesh, and he wondered how would they manage to restrain themselves. Would he feel everything even more intensely than he already did? Would he feel the pain it still caused him to think about how he had used him, intensified? Or would he feel only the need to touch him, even more than he did now?

He tried not to think about that in that moment, especially when Hannibal was still between his legs, when he still could still feel the ghost of his kiss on Will’s lips, and his fingers over his jaw.

Will finally moved a little backwards, and Hannibal stood up and went to the bedroom while he finished in the bathroom. When Will went out too in his underpants, Hannibal was sitting on the edge of his bed, and he observed him while he got dressed, but it didn’t bother him, because he knew that he wasn’t trying to annoy him or make him nervous like the previous times.

Will managed to get almost completely dressed, but when he was trying to button up his shirt, his hands trembled a little. He closed his eyes, trying to focus back on himself, but the images of the murders were beginning to fill his mind again. In that moment he felt Hannibal’s hands over his, and he looked at him. Hannibal moved his hands away from the shirt gently but determined, and Will let him, and then he buttoned his shirt. After that, Will picked a tie and put it around his neck, but he let Hannibal tie it, as he had done with the shirt. While he did that, Will couldn’t take his eyes off of him, and when he finished, Hannibal held his gaze. Then, he raised a hand and slowly caressed his cheek, exactly like Will had done to him in the bathroom. Will closed his eyes under his touch, leaning his head against his palm and feeling again Buffalo Bill’s mind leaving his own for a moment.

They had breakfast in silence, looking at each other. Will wondered if in a few hours he would be facing him, exactly like that, but that time both of them being physically in the same room. He had to bury that thought to force himself to eat something.

****

“Will, it’s so good to see you again.”

Beverly gave him an awkward pat on his arm and he tried to smile, but he was sure it looked like a weird face. Price and Zeller also welcomed him back on the lab, and he shook their hands.

“Okay, bring him up to date,” Jack said from behind him when they finished with the greetings.

Will had gone straight to his office, and Jack obviously hadn’t been surprised when he had told him that he was in. He was well aware of how those cases affected him, and how he didn’t really have much choice.

“Of course,” Price said, and they all moved to the farthest table on the laboratory.

When they approached the covered body, Will noticed the smell, but they all endured the disgust.

“Meet our Jane Doe. We’re still working on the identification, no luck yet. They found her in Elk River, in West Virginia,” Zeller started saying when he uncovered her. “The water erased any evidence from the body, but we still have been able to discover some things.”

In that moment, Will felt the subtle change around him, and he looked sideways to see Hannibal circling them, observing everything.

“There is no evidence of rape or any physical abuse prior to death, exactly like the other victims,” Beverly explained. “As I’m sure you already know, he keeps them alive for three days and then he kills and flays them. Each body in a different river, each woman kidnapped in a different state.”

“This one has a star-shaped entrance wound over the sternum. The others apparently were shot.”

“Maybe she attempted to escape and he had to improvise, become creative,” Will said, and his voice sounded strange to himself. Nobody answered, so he moved closer to the victim, observing her. “She has two broken fingernails and dirt underneath the rest. She was trying to claw her way out of somewhere, probably the place where he keeps them.”

They nodded, and then Price and Zeller grabbed the body and turned it around. She had the upper part of her back completely skinned, and Will felt a shiver running down his spine, almost feeling the blade going through his own skin. He sensed Hannibal’s presence next to him, and that allowed him to focus again.

“There’s something else. We found this inside her throat,” Beverly started saying, showing him a jar with something in a liquid. “At first we thought it was something she had brought from the river, since it’s very common in bodies that have been drown, but it was too deep in her throat to end up there on its own.”

“And it’s something that I doubt you can find in every river just like that,” Price added.

Will moved closer to the jar Beverly was holding, and he saw what looked like a bug.

“Is it a bug cocoon?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes, but not _any_ bug. An entomologist just told us that it’s in fact an _Acherontia Styx_ , also called the Death’s-dead hawkmoth,” Zeller explained, and he took a picture from another table and showed it to him; it was a moth with a pattern that looked like a skull.

“Very symbolic,” Will said, stepping backwards.

“Symbolic, yes, but the most interesting thing about this little guy is that they only live in Asia,” Zeller told him.

“That’s a long way from here,” Will said.

“It is. _Somebody_ had to import them and take care of them,” Price concluded.

Jack took a step towards them, and Will remembered his presence for the first time since they had started to brief him.

“We’re trying to see if there are any animal stores that could’ve sold these, but it’s not probable,” Jack said from behind him, and Will turned around. “Now, can you tell me anything about the killer, Will?” he asked him, and he stared at him for a second before starting circling the table again, gathering everything he had seen about him in his head.

“It’s a white male, most probably, in his thirties or forties, strong build. He’s skilled and precise, not impulsive. He’s probably killed before these murders, maybe from his adolescence, although not like this. But he’s getting a taste for it, and he’s not going to stop. He lives in a house, probably with a basement, no neighbors: what he does requires privacy. He uses some trick to get the women go to him, maybe he pretends to be hurt or need some kind of help.”

When he finished, he looked away from the body and saw that Hannibal was smiling, and Will would’ve sworn he was proud of him.

“Okay. Anything else?” Jack asked him, and he shook his head.

“I need the complete files of the victims, and I’ll think about going to visit some of the families,” he told him, going towards him while Zeller covered the body again. “And there’s something else I need to tell you.”

“Privately?” he asked him, and Will looked over his shoulder to the other three people in the room besides Hannibal.

“Yes.”

When they went outside the laboratory, Jack went straight to his office, and Will followed him noticing the glances of the FBI people, whispering and murmuring at seeing him back. But he focused on Hannibal’s presence beside him, and he just kept walking behind Jack.

“Okay, tell me” he said once they were in the office, closing the door and going behind his desk.

Will didn’t sit; he pocketed his free hand and stayed in front of the desk, feeling Hannibal’s gaze fixed on him.

“I have one condition for me to work on this case.”

“Condition?” Jack asked, frowning. That _had_ surprised him.

“Yes. I want to consult with someone about this case.”

Jack finally sat on his chair, and he nodded.

“Sure, consult with anyone you want if you need it. Who is it?”

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”

He tried to say it in a flat tone, but he knew that Hannibal had probably caught the small inflection when he said the name out loud, to another person. The undertone that betrayed him and told Hannibal that he was actually nervous.

Jack raised his eyebrows and leaned forwards on the desk.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s my condition.”

“Yes, I heard you, but I- I mean, Hannibal Lecter… The Chesapeake Ripper?”

“Is there another Hannibal Lecter?”

Jack leaned backwards again, ignoring his quip, and he stared at him for a few seconds.

“I’m sorry, but help me understand. A couple of months ago he calls the FBI asking to talk to you, then Dr. Chilton offers you an opportunity to interview him and you refuse it. And now you want to _consult_ with him,” he said, and he made a pause, maybe waiting for him to say something, but Will didn’t move a muscle. “Am I missing something?”

Will changed his jacket from one arm to the other.

“No, I think you’re about right. A few months ago I didn’t have any reason to talk to him, now I do.”

“But why this case?”

Will shrugged and shook his head a little.

“You said so yourself, we need to catch him, and we need to do it quickly, right? Well, consulting with someone like Lecter might be helpful.”

Jack looked away from him for a moment, running two fingers through his chin, and then he nodded.

“All right, if you think it’ll help the case, then I’ll call the Hospital. But you know that Lecter may deny your request, don’t you?”

“I have a feeling that he won’t,” Will simply said.

He looked at Hannibal for a moment and saw that he was smiling again, amused by the situation. Jack sent him to the cafeteria while he made the calls and Hannibal went back to Baltimore. Will hadn’t even finished the coffee he had ordered when Jack was already back with a frown.

“He… He accepted,” he said, surprised, but Will couldn’t even pretend that he was. “Dr. Chilton said we could go this very afternoon.”

****

“I know you probably know this, but it’s part of my job to make sure all the visitors know the rules… and I mean, it’s not like we’re talking about any patient,” he said, smiling, and he made a pause in which nobody moved, so he cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, here it goes; do not, under any circumstance, touch or approach the glass. Pass him nothing but paper, and obviously no pencils or pens. Use only the tray, never the holes in the glass, no exceptions. And if he attempts to pass anything to you, do not accept it.”

Will stared at Frederick Chilton, unexpressive.

“Okay. Are we done?” he asked, and then he looked at the closed door.

Alana made a gesture to the camera that was on the wall, and the barred doors opened after a loud bell ring. Will, Jack, Alana and Chilton went through it, and Will noticed the clear change on the hall. While the part of the Hospital that they had passed seemed exactly what it was, a prison, that part actually looked like a fancy facility, so Will knew they were getting closer… But Frederick Chilton stopped again and turned around to face them.

“Oh, I had forgotten… I must tell you that this and any future interviews if they were to happen, will be recorded on camera.”

“What?” Will asked, frowning. “This is an FBI investigation, can he do that?” he asked, turning to Jack.

“Believe me, Mr. Graham, it’s for your own security. Hannibal Lecter is not your typical psychopath,” Chilton told him, and Will glared at him. He was sure that it _wasn’t_ for his security.

“He’s kind of right. And it is his Hospital after all, Will,” Jack told him, shrugging, but Will knew that the idea of having Chilton knowing everything they were going to talk wasn’t that appealing to him either, even if it was for different reasons.

“Fine,” Will said, and he circled Frederick Chilton.

But before he could advance much further, Jack grabbed his arm and made him turn around. Will looked at him, inquisitive, and Jack moved closer to him so Chilton couldn’t hear them.

“We need to use him, so you’re going to have to get close, make him trust you… But be careful, Will, don’t get _too_ close.”

A smile flickered on his lips before he could avoid it.

“Don’t worry… I won’t get too close.”

Jack nodded and let go of him, and then he looked one last time at the other two people. Alana was serious, since she had rejected that idea from the beginning. Chilton, however, had a broad smile on his face; he had been delighted since Will and Jack had arrived to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. And now Will knew why: he would be able to record and see everything he talked to Hannibal. He probably was euphoric.

Will finally turned around again and walked towards the only door at the end of the hallway, leaving them behind. He stopped in front of it, and then he sighed and finally grabbed the doorknobs and pushed the double doors forwards. He had been nervous since he had arrived there, but when the doors finally opened, he felt his heart hammering on his chest, and he even felt a shiver running down his spine.

Because there he was, standing behind the glass with his hands behind his back, waiting for him.

_A smile appeared in Hannibal’s lips the second he saw him appearing behind the door. He had heard his voice in the hallway that lead to his room, along with Jack Crawford and Frederick Chilton’s, but he was now_ seeing _him, and they were in the same physical space for the first time._

_Will reacted after a couple of seconds, and he went into the room, the doors closing behind him. The moment they did, he lowered his gaze, trying to compose himself, and Hannibal sensed that Will was overwhelmed, too. He glanced at the camera in the corner of the room outside the glass, and the small red light below it reminded him that Frederick Chilton would be recording everything. They would have to act for them._

_“Good afternoon, Agent Graham. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said, taking a step towards the glass._

_“Dr. Lecter,” he said, trying to keep his voice unaltered._

_“I am so glad to have such an interesting visit. All my other callers were banal psychiatrists and grasping second-raters. Pencil lickers.”_

_“And yet you refused almost anyone that attempted to visit you in the past years,” Will said, a little more serene than before._

_“That I did,” he said, tilting his head. “But where are my manners, please, take a seat,” he said, pointing at the chair that the staff had prepared for Will in front of the glass._

_Will moved again, still a little hesitant, and he sat in the chair. Hannibal caught his scent when he moved, and he had to close his eyes for a second, feeling the hair on the back of his neck standing up._

_“You’re going to have to forgive me. I would offer you a drink, but I’m afraid my hands are tied in that respect.”_

_Will just looked at him, and then he seemed to remember the reason why he was there, so he looked down at his lap, where he had the case files._

_“I would introduce myself, but I believe you already know who I am and what I do,” he started saying, maintaining the appearances for the camera._

_“I do. I must say, I enjoyed very much the article Miss Freddie Lounds wrote about you. A bit rude, but we’ve all been the objective of her sharp pen here.”_

_“I would say it was more than a bit rude. It was untrue.”_

_“That’s a pity. I really fancied the ‘serial-killers fanboy’ part, particularly.”_

_Hannibal smiled even wider, amused, and Will shook his head almost imperceptibly, enough for him to see it, but probably a gesture the people who were watching wouldn’t noticed._

_“By the way, I hope you’re feeling better. When I tried to contact you to arrange a visit, they told me you were… indispose?” he asked him, remembering when he had been unable to reach Will through the connection when he had been in the hospital._

_“I am better, thank you,” Will said in a low voice, and then he looked at the papers in his hands again for a moment, and he cleared his throat. “I’m not sure how much Dr. Chilton has told you about why I’m here… I would like your help with a case.”_

_“Buffalo Bill. What a naughty boy he is.”_

_“So you have read about him.”_

_“Only what the Hospital staff allows me to, but yes,” he lied, and Will nodded. It was strange having to pretend for the cameras, but he was actually enjoying it._

_“Then that saves us a little time. Can I pass you the files, Ha- Dr. Lecter?”_

_“Please.”_

_Will got up, and when he went to the tray, Hannibal followed him from his side of the glass, not taking his eyes off of him even for a second. He had to restrain himself not to come any closer to the holes of the glass, because in that moment he wanted to touch him more than anything in the world._

_When the other pushed the tray with the files inside, he took them and opened them after staring at Will for a moment. He was so uncomfortable in that situation, and Hannibal found it extremely endearing._

_“Let me ask you something, Mr. Graham. Why do you think he removes the women’s skin?”_

_He took a long breath, and then he swallowed before answering._

_“Maybe it excites him. Almost every serial killer keep something as a trophy from their victims.”_

_“I didn’t,” Hannibal said._

_“No, you ate yours.”_

_He said it simply, with no undertone, and Hannibal smiled, returning to the papers and pretending he was reading all the details he already knew through his visits to Will._

_“Let’s say I help you with this case…” he started saying, and then he looked at Will in the eyes. “What do I get out of this?”_

_“What?”_

_The question had caught him off guard, but he quickly composed himself for the camera, although the frown didn’t leave his expression._

_“Well, nothing comes for free in this world, does it, Mr. Graham?”_

_He just kept glaring at him, not answering his question. Hannibal hadn’t told him anything about his_ second _condition, but it was something he had thought about since the first moment he had known that the situation they were in that moment, was a possibility._

_“What do you want?” Will asked him, a little blunt._

_“I want to get out of here,” he said, and Will looked at him with his eyes half-closed, so he smiled again. “Let me clarify, I know I’m never going to get out of prison, but I would like to be transferred to another facility, to_ any _facility at all. And I would very much like to have a window with a view.”_

_Will looked down, trying to take everything in._

_“I… I’m not sure I can get you that. There’s no guarantee that your assistance will help us catch him, and even if there were…”_

_Hannibal understood then why he was saying that. Will knew that he could actually help him, but the people who were watching through the camera didn’t, so he left the case files on top of the tray and approached the glass a little._

_“Then allow me to commence this…_ relation _with a gesture of good will. Go to a storage facility here in Baltimore called Your Self, and look for a unit under Miss Hester Mofet, an old patient of mine.”_

_He waited while Will wrote it down in a pad he took from his jacket, and then he smiled at him._

_“I’m already looking forward to our next talk, Agent Graham.”_

****

“There is _no_ way they’ll transfer him.”

Will nodded absently to Jack, with a thousand thoughts crossing his mind at the same time. Hannibal hadn’t told him anything about that, but it made sense that he was already planning two steps ahead.

“I’ll still make the calls, see how they see it,” Jack said.

“Okay. We’ll talk later, or tomorrow,” Will told him while they were getting out of the Hospital. “I think I’m going to go the storage facility right now.”

“Why would he want you to go to that facility…?” he asked him, and Will felt the heat invading his face, so he tried to hide it lowering his gaze.

“I don’t know… But that’s what I’m going to find out.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked him, and Will stopped abruptly.

“No, I… I think he wants me to do this on my own.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, and Will just shrugged and started walking to the parking.

“Fine, but call if you think something’s off. I mean it, Graham!”

He raised his hand over his head without turning around to let him know that he had heard him, and he went to his car. He found the storage facility when the sun was setting, almost an hour away from the Hospital, and the old man in charge had to look through the oldest files until he found the one under the name Hannibal had given him.

“It was leased for ten years, prepaid in full in the name of a Miss Hester Mofet.”

“And nobody has been here in all those years?” Will asked him while the man opened the gate of the unit.

“Not that I know of.”

When he unlocked the gate, he tried to open it but the door was blocked. They managed to lift it enough so Will could fit crawling, so he told the man to wait there and then he went inside.

He took his flashlight out when he stood up, and he jumped a little backwards when he found himself surrounded by many things, but more specifically, by an absurd amount of mannequins. He started walking around, going through everything: there were bizarre clothes, more mannequins that he could count, photo albums, old pieces of furniture… and in the center, what looked like a hearse. Will tried to look inside through the windows but it was too dirty, so he opened the back door and entered. Inside there was more trash, and something covered with a cloth. He removed it, and he found himself looking at a glass jar with a human head inside.

****

Will took a sip from his glass of whisky, and he let himself relax against the kitchen counter when the liquid went down his throat. He had gone straight to Quantico from the storage facility, and he had spent there a couple of hours, so it was late when he had arrived to Wolf Trap, and he was exhausted.

“Hard day at work?” Hannibal’s voice asked him from behind.

Will looked at him and rolled his eyes. Hannibal was smiling, exactly as he had been on Baltimore. He was enjoying everything _so_ much, Will wanted to punch him or kiss him just to erase that smile. Maybe both, he wasn’t decided yet.

“I went to the storage facility,” Will told him.

Hannibal took a step towards him and Will had to lean back a little against counter, but he didn’t move away when the other almost cornered him while he opened the cabinet above him to take a glass, which he then filled with whisky.

“And?” he asked him, moving just a little backwards, but staying very close to him.

“And I found what I guess you wanted me to find. But I thought we were only going to discuss the case in Baltimore,” he said, tilting his head a little.

“That’s true. You could share your thoughts, but it wouldn’t be very practical since you would have to repeat everything there for our audience,” he said, taking a sip from the glass.

Will observed how his Adam’s apple went up and down when he drank, his jaw tensing when he swallowed, and he wondered once again how he was even possible.

When he had gone into the room, it had been _so_ difficult for him to maintain his composure. Hannibal had been right when he had told him that it would be even more powerful when they saw each other in person. They hadn’t even touched, but only seeing him, knowing he was there physically had altered him in ways he couldn’t even understand. He would’ve given anything to be able to go through the glass to feel him closer.

“You didn’t tell me anything about your _other_ condition,” Will told him then, looking away before he was too lost in him.

“I guess I didn’t.”

“Why?”

Hannibal stayed silent for a few seconds, and when Will looked at him, he really seemed to be thinking about it.

“Maybe I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, congratulations, you did.”

He moved away from the counter then, and he went to the living room. He left his glass on the wooden table, and he moved the logs in the fireplace to rekindle them. When he turned around, Hannibal was already seated on his couch, and Will pocketed his hands in his pants.

“Why are you doing this? Helping me…” he asked him then, and Hannibal met his gaze. “I mean, yes, you have this _other_ condition, but you can’t be sure they’ll agree to that, so… Why are you helping me?” he repeated, and Hannibal took a sip from his glass before answering.

“Because you need to catch him, like you need to catch every serial killer. It’s the only way you can be… Well, I wouldn’t say happy, but less miserable.”

Will couldn’t help to smile a little.

“So what, you want me to be happy?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I said less miserable,” he specified, but Will shook his head, ignoring him.

“Is that why you killed all those murderers? You thought it would make me happy…?” Will tried to say it resentfully, but he couldn’t find the bitter feeling that used to come to him whenever he remembered how Hannibal had used him to kill people.

“I said-“

“Yeah, I know what you said, but I also have unparalleled access to your mind, remember?” Will reminded him, and Hannibal smiled a little. “You would love it if I killed again, wouldn’t you…?”

“I would like you to be free from your self-restraint, whatever that may cause. That would make you less miserable. So… yes, perhaps I _do_ want you to be happy, Will,” he said, and then he looked at the fireplace, as if he couldn’t held his gaze.

Will observed him for a few seconds, and then he finally decided to sit. But instead of going to his own couch as he always did, Will went to Hannibal’s couch and sat beside him. It surprised him at first, but he quickly moved over so he could properly sit. Then, before he could overthink what he was doing, Will leaned backwards with his back on top of Hannibal’s chest, and he let his head fall on the curve of his neck, right under his chin. Hannibal hesitated for a moment, but then he placed his arm over Will’s chest, hugging him from behind. Only when Will felt Hannibal fondling his arm with the hand that he had put around him, he sighed and closed his eyes, swayed by the movement of his chest.

“You’re planning on escaping, aren’t you?” he asked him, because he had wanted to do it since he had heard about his _second_ condition in Baltimore.

“The thought has crossed my mind,” Hannibal said, but Will knew that he was just trying to downplay it. It was more than a thought that had appeared in his mind by chance. “Would you like it if I were outside?”

He opened his eyes and observed the flames while he thought about his answer, feeling Hannibal’s thumb drawing circles over his shirt.

“Yes… and no,” he said, and he was telling the truth. “If you were outside… I would be partly responsible for each and every one of your murders.”

“What about that part of you that _does_ want me to be outside?”

Will thought about it and he had to sit up, turning to look at him in the eyes. Hannibal was serious, suddenly not amused or smiling or teasing him, so Will just leaned in and pressed their lips together. He let the kiss say everything he couldn’t say in that moment, and he let his fear and concern slip away, focusing only on the curve of Hannibal’s body against his, the shape of Hannibal’s cheekbones under his fingers, and the way his tongue seemed to know exactly what to do to make Will moan against his lips in only a few seconds.

Will became aware of what he was doing only when he felt Hannibal’s erection grazing his thigh; he was almost on top of him, with Hannibal’s fingers grabbing his hair but not pulling it, and his uniform half opened, probably because Will had grasped it while he was kissing him. They looked at each other trying to catch their breath, and then Will had to move away, because he knew he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist kissing him again if he kept looking at his red lips and his disheveled hair.

He sat at the edge of the couch, took his glass of whisky and drank it in one gulp. Will felt Hannibal’s hand on his back, but he knew that he was trying to comfort him, not pressure him.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” he told him once he had calmed down a little.

“You’re not going to have dinner?”

“I’m not hungry,” Will said, and it was true.

He barely had eaten anything for lunch because he was too nervous about going to see Hannibal, and he hadn’t been hungry after that, either. The case and everything that had happened had made him lose his appetite.

Hannibal nodded and then he stood up and went to his bedroom, as he had said. Will knew that Hannibal did have dinner in Baltimore, because he disappeared for a while. Despite how tired he was, he tried to remain awake and resist the sleep that was trying to drag him into the unconsciousness. Will was half asleep when the mattress finally trembled and he turned around to see him getting under the sheets. He rolled to his side to look at him, and Hannibal imitated his posture, getting on his side so they were facing each other.

“Hey,” he greeted him, with a tired smile and sounding a little drowsy.

“Hey,” Hannibal said too, smiling a little, probably because it hadn’t even been an hour since they had seen each other.

Will then sighed and thought about what Hannibal had asked him before, and maybe it was because of how sleepy he was, or maybe he just really needed to tell him, but that time he did answer his question.

“I _do_ wish you were here…”

Hannibal stayed silent for a moment, and even in the dim moonlight, he distinguished the little lip twitch that betrayed him sometimes when he was considering something.

“Am I not?” Hannibal asked him in a whisper. He moved a little, adjusting to the pillow, and a single lock of hair fell over his forehead. Will had to resist once again the urge to extend his hand and remove it.

“You now what I mean.”

And Will sensed that Hannibal _did_ know. He was telling the truth when he had said that he both wanted and didn’t want him outside of Baltimore. Because letting Hannibal out implied too many things he didn’t want to think about, but it would also mean that he would be able to touch him and feel him without them being physically parted.

“I do,” he answered simply.

They looked at each other’s eyes for a few minutes, and when Will couldn’t bear it any longer, he moved to face the ceiling. He swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump that had appeared on his throat. He let his right hand fall in the space between them, and when he felt the back of Hannibal’s hand grazing against his, he closed his eyes and a single tear fell down his cheek and got lost in his hair.

****

“Doctor Chilton completely refused.”

Will chuckled and nodded, pocketing his hands in his pants.

“Of course he did. Hannibal is the patient he exhibits like a poodle on a dog’s beauty contest. He’s so proud of having him there, as if he had caught him…”

Will looked at Jack when he didn’t answer, and he was raising his eyebrows.

“You _really_ don’t like the guy, do you?” he asked him, and Will just shrugged. “Well, it’s not only Chilton. The Department of Corrections also said no. If we knew that Lecter was a certain possibility of catching Buffalo Bill…”

“He might be,” Will said, because he couldn’t tell him that it was more than a possibility.

“Exactly, _might_. Just… tell him that they’re thinking about it, and we’ll think about something. We could use a fake deal if you think that he really might help with the case,” Jack told him.

Will glared at him at the ‘fake deal’ mention, but he finally nodded, took the files Jack gave him, and then they went into the Hospital. Frederick Chilton was waiting for them in the lobby, and he guided them like the previous day, although that time Jack and him didn’t go as far, and they let Will walk down the last hall on his own.

When he finally reached Hannibal’s cell, he had to take a couple of seconds before going in, exactly as the first time, because he was still trying to get used to seeing him in person. Once he went in, Hannibal welcomed him exactly as the day before: standing in the middle of the room, with his hands behind his back, and a smug smile on his lips. He was enjoying himself _so_ much…

“Good morning, Agent Graham,” he greeted him, and Will nodded to him. “May I ask you, how many dogs do you own?”

Will frowned and his heart began beating faster. He looked sideways to the camera.

“In our first encounter I smelled canine, but the scent is rather strong for you just to have one or two. You must have at least…” he made a pause, and then he closed his eyes, raised his head and inhaled loudly through his nose, even though Will knew he didn’t need to do that. “Six?”

“Almost. Seven,” he answered, smiling for a second, because he knew he had given the wrong number on purpose.

“Remarkable.”

“The rest of me,” Will said, going straight to the point before he could pretend to play any more games.

“I’m sorry?”

Will sat on the chair that was ready for him, and he took a piece of paper out, showing it to him. Hannibal took a step towards him to be able to read it.

“It was an anagram, wasn’t it? Hester Mofet, the rest of me,” he said.

Hannibal smiled, proud of him, and Will had to repress a smile of his own, even though in his position, the camera could only capture his back.

“Very good, Mr. Graham.”

“I assume you rented that garage, although I doubt the things in there were yours at all.”

“They weren’t.”

“What about the head I found?”

Hannibal smiled again, and he pretended to think for a moment about it.

“The head, yes. Tell me, Agent Graham, what did the high commands say about my request?”

He looked down and bit his lip. He didn’t want to lie to him about that, so he extended his mind towards him as he did when they were together. That way, he would know that he was lying.

“They haven’t decided yet. Maybe… if you gave us more details, they would be more willing to make a deal.”

Will knew that Hannibal had noticed which part was a lie and which wasn’t, and he nodded a little.

“Very well. Benjamin Raspail is the name of our beheaded friend,” he said, and Will wrote it down. “He was a patient of mine.”

Will raised his gaze to look at him with an eyebrow raised, and Hannibal grinned.

“I did not kill him, I merely found him like that when he missed three appointments, and did him the favor of keeping his belongings there.”

“Who did, then?”

“Who knows, but it was probably for the best, the therapy wasn’t going anywhere. Manic-depressive, and rather tedious, I must say. But we may think of him as a kind of experiment… a killer’s first attempt of transformation.”

“Buffalo Bill did it, right?” Will finally asked him after a pause, and Hannibal turned around, making him wait. “We found a moth inside his head. The same kind we found in the last victim. Not very common…”

“Seems like Bill likes rare and unique things.”

Will felt his heartbeats accelerating, but he had to remind himself that he had to say the right things for the camera.

“Did you… know him, Dr. Lecter?” he asked him.

Hannibal finally turned around again, facing him.

“Hardly. I met him once and he used a false name; if I recall correctly, it was something like Jack Gordon. He was a _very_ tall man with blonde dyed hair and blue eyes,” he said, and Will quickly wrote everything down. “Raspail referred him to me. They were lovers,” he said, and he emphasized the last word, which made Will look down for a second. “He was frightened, he told me that he thought Bill had done horrible things and that he planned to do even worse things… But let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said, and he took another step towards the glass. “What do you think the moth represents,Agent Graham?”

“A killer’s first attempt of transformation…” Will said, repeating Hannibal’s words. “A moth represents change.”

“Caterpillar into chrysalis, the primary into beauty.”

“So he wants to change? Through the murders?”

“Our Billy wants to change, indeed. Do you crave change, Agent Graham?” he asked him, and he smiled again when he didn’t answer to him. “In any way, the change Bill wants to achieve is rather different than any change you may attempt to.”

Will then understood it, partly through his words and partly through the connection.

“Is he… a transgender?”

Hannibal clicked his tongue then, and he shook his head.

“I believe I’ve already spoken too much already. I will be more than delighted to continue our conversation when they decide on my proposition.”

He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t tell him anything else, and got up and went to the sliding tray to leave the copy of the new files of the case. Hannibal followed him from his side of the glass. While he put the papers on the tray, he felt Hannibal’s gaze fixed on him, and he refused to look at him at first, fearing he wouldn’t be able to control his emotions, not when they were so close.

“You didn’t answer my question, Agent,” he told him when Will pushed the tray to the other side, and he finally had to look at him. “Do you crave change?”

Hannibal took another step towards the glass, and Will could almost see Chilton and Jack looking at the computer screen, leaning forwards and getting nervous at Hannibal getting so close. Then, he slowly raised a hand and left it in the nearest hole of the glass. Will looked at his fingers, and then he looked at him, with his heart hammering on his chest. Without turning around, he took a step to his side, in a way that his body would block the camera’s angle, and then he put his own hand next to Hannibal’s. When he felt the contact, his breath got caught on his throat, and he had to resort to all his self-control so they wouldn’t notice anything strange through the camera. He looked at Hannibal and saw that he was having trouble maintaining his composure, too. But he still raised his pinky finger and grazed the back of Will’s hand. He couldn’t believe how something could feel that way… _so_ different from when they were visiting each other with the connection, and yet just as real… Will resisted the urge to wrap Hannibal’s hand with his, and then he backed up, knowing it would be a strange thing to watch them both standing there, not saying anything and just looking at each other for so long.

“Goodbye, Dr. Lecter,” he told him trying to make his voice sound normal and still avoiding his question.

He went out of the room as fast as he could, not stopping to look back, because it physically pained him to see him there, behind the glass. But he hadn’t gotten to the exterior when Jack intercepted him, followed by Chilton.

“Will!”

“What?” he said a little brusquely, turning around.

“Did you know?” he said, raising his voice, and the nurses and staff that were on the lobby turned to look at them.

Jack pursed his lips and walked outside to continue the conversation, and Will followed him. Once they were out, Jack put his hands on his hips and glared at him again.

“Did you know that Lecter knew who Buffalo Bill is?” he asked, stressing every word as if it was a separate phrase.

“Of course not!” he lied.

In that moment, Will became aware of the extra pair of eyes that were observing them, and he turned to look at Frederick Chilton. He had an idiotic smile on his face, and Will frowned. But Jack attracted his attention again.

“So what, you decide to consult with him, and then it turns out he actually _knows_ who this killer is. Is that a coincidence, Will?”

“It _is_. I didn’t know, Jack,” he told him again, and he sounded convincing even to himself.

Jack looked at him for a couple of more seconds, and then he sighed and relaxed a little.

“All right, okay…” he said, pacing in front of him. “But this changes everything. If he’s not lying, then now we really _need_ him to cooperate.”

“You have to get the deal,” Will told him.

They both looked at Chilton at the same time, and the smile had faded, because he had realized what that meant; he might lose his favorite patient, the one he hadn’t get to understand and the one he never would.

“I will only allow the transfer if the Department of Corrections agrees,” he said, shrugging a little.

Jack nodded, and then started putting on his coat.

“I’ll try again, make every phone call I can… Meanwhile, see if you discover something with the new information you have; get the guys to run the fake name through the databases, search for information on this Benjamin Raspail, anything…” he told him, and Will nodded.

He went to his car, and Will was left alone with Chilton. He looked at him again, and when he opened his mouth to talk, Will turned around and left before he could say a word.

****

When he arrived at his house, he left his jacket on the back of a chair and let himself fall on his couch. He focused on Hannibal and he appeared right away.

“Wine?” he asked him, as usual, walking to the kitchen.

“Please,” Will said, and he sighed.

Hannibal brought him a glass and he took it, but Will leaned backwards again to rest a little while the other went back to the kitchen and started preparing dinner.

“We didn’t find Benjamin Raspail among the files of your patients,” he told him after a few silent minutes.

“I usually took the precaution of destroying the files of certain patients, in case… Well, in case I was caught. Raspail was one of them,” Hannibal told him.

Will nodded, because it made sense. If one of his patients had been mixed with someone as Buffalo Bill, whatever the situation was, it made sense for Hannibal to erase everything about him so they couldn’t link it to him.

When the fireplace was lit and the dinner was ready, they sat at the table, sharing another glass of wine. That night, Hannibal didn’t bring his food from the prison, and Will allowed him to skip one meal, since he had gained some weight since he had realized what was happening with the food.

“How did you… feel when we touched?” Will asked him then, and he took a bite from the lamb Hannibal had prepared.

“You know how I felt. Exactly as you did.”

Will looked at him and shook his head.

“I still don’t understand how it’s even possible…” he whispered.

“What did uncle Jack say about the deal?” Hannibal asked him after a pause.

“That he would keep trying, in light of the newest information,” Will said.

Hannibal smiled a little, and then he sipped from his glass of wine. When he left the glass back on the table, he leaned a little forwards.

“I could _really_ escape, Will.”

“I know,” he said, feeling the lump on his throat that was beginning to feel familiar.

“I’m thinking… There’s something you should do,” he said, and Will looked at him furrowing his brow. “If I _do_ escape, we will need to lay low for a while. I have the perfect location for that.”

“The perfect location…?”

“A cabin in the mountains, a few hours from here, in Virginia. We could prepare it, get supplies, be ready in case we need it. I’ll help you, of course, but I’m afraid you will have to do all the shopping and take everything there...”

Will looked down at this plate, and he didn’t look at him while he slowly chewed his food.

“Will.“

When he swallowed, he finally had to look at him, and he clenched his jaw before saying it.

“Not _we_.”

Hannibal tilted his head, even though Will knew he had understood right away. He felt Hannibal’s uneasiness, and he had to close the connection a little so he could continue talking.

“I will get the supplies for you, and I will… I will help you escape if you need me to,” he said, and he felt his heart beating faster, because it had been too easy a choice for him to take deep inside him. “I will visit you and help you in that cabin until you can go away. I will do all that… but I won’t be going with you.”

Hannibal stayed silent, and then he looked down, not looking at him.

“You know that we will still be connected…” he said.

“Yes, and I’ve accepted that. But… I can’t go with you.”

Hannibal raised his head then, and fixed his gaze on him. Will had to resist the urge of looking away when he saw the expression on his watery eyes.

“We could be a family, Will. You, me, the dogs… Maybe even Abigail,” he said, and Will felt a pang in his chest at him saying that. “Do you believe you can go back to your previous life? After the way I’ve changed you?”

“You have changed me… And I have changed you,” he told him, and Hannibal half closed his eyes, realizing in that moment that he was right, that he _had_ changed him. “But I still can’t do that.”

Will left his fork on the table and put his hand on top of Hannibal’s. He didn’t move it away, and Will sensed that he wasn’t angry at all; he was hurt. And that pained him more than anything.

“Perhaps you will change your mind,” Hannibal told him in a whisper, but he didn’t answer.

Will had seen that scenario in his head, he had imagined Hannibal breaking out of the facility to which they would transfer him, and he had seen himself going away with him... And he had longed for it, craved it… So much, that it had scared him. Hannibal was right; he and the connection had changed him a great deal. But maybe if he stayed physically away from Hannibal, his transformation would be incomplete. Maybe they could find a way to live like they had until that moment, parted and at the same time closer than he had ever been with anyone in his entire life…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I think it's safe for me to say that I'm going to go back to weekly updates! I only have a few chapters left to write (oh god, I can't believe I'm saying this!) and I have a fair amount of chapters already written to publish them. So... I'm not saying it's a sure thing that I won't be doing another "two weeks update", but at least next week there _will_ be an update :)
> 
> Okay, I a few things about the chapter:
> 
> * As some of you already guessed in the previous one, it was Buffalo Bill! :) For those of you who haven't read/watched the Hannibal books/movies, it's the case from The Silence of the Lambs.  
> * I have NOT read the books (yet?), but I obviously have watched the movies. I watched it again for research purposes before writing this part of the fic, but I wanted to clarify a couple of things: there will be some things that will be exactly like in the movie, even complete dialogues, yes. BUT, there will be other things that I've changed, and I don't mean to the fact that it's clearly a different story already, I also mean small details from the case. Just so you don't think 'hey, you got that wrong in the movie!'. It just probably means I decided to change it, even if it was a tiiiiny little detail *shrugs*  
> * Bryan Fuller said he would've loved to cast Lee Pace as Buffalo Bill on an (on several?) interview, so when I started writing this I had Lee in mind (hence the 'very tall' description hahah). Just so you know :)
> 
> And... I think that's it?
> 
> Only one song for this update:
> 
> · [Care](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GpajspJsTa4), Hudson Taylor (I imagined this song as Hannibal saying it to Will about Jack, for the 'how he treats you' or the 'he's a hypocrite' parts hahah. But either way, such a good song!)


	15. Fifteen

When he finally turned off the car, he looked through the windshield at the house that was in front of them, and he raised his eyebrows.

“ _This_ is what you call a cabin in the mountains…?” he asked, turning to look at Hannibal.

He was smiling a little and he nodded, but Will could sense that he wasn’t amused. Two nights before, Will had told him that he wouldn’t be fleeing with him, and he felt his stomach clenching again at the memory, so he pushed the thought away.

“I honestly expected a little wooden cabin with two rooms, at most.”

Hannibal finally opened the passenger seat and got out, and then he bent to look at him through the opened door when Will didn’t move.

“Coming?”

Will nodded, and he finally stopped staring at the house and went outside. They started unloading the boxes and bags from his car, and then they moved them to the entrance. Hannibal took a key from a loose stone, something that would be pretty careless if it wasn’t because the house was so away from anything and anywhere, that Will doubted anyone would ever find it if they didn’t know exactly where to go. They had been driving for almost an hour once they had gone into the woods, with no visible road or signs or anything that suggested that there was a house nearby.

Hannibal finally opened the door and he had to push it open with his shoulder since it was a little stuck, probably because nobody had been there in years. When they went in, Will coughed a little at the excess of dust in the air and the stale smell. They began opening every single window and then they took everything they had unloaded from the car inside.

The previous day they had gone shopping together, and even though it had been a little awkward because of the conversation the night before, Hannibal had stayed with him and they had bought most of the things that he would need; plenty of non-perishable food, gas for the generator, bottled water, medicines, clothes that Hannibal had picked himself, a few books and things to draw so he wouldn’t be mortally bored… And Hannibal had insisted, of course, in having things that Will didn’t consider _necessary_ , but he had looked at him raising his eyebrows and had reminded him that he ‘ _wasn’t an animal, after all_ ’. Because of course, not having things like cinnamon sticks or scented candles automatically meant living like an animal.

The cabin (even though Will still didn’t think that word was appropriate for it because of its size) was larger than he could have imagined, and he saw that it was divided in the single spacious room that served as kitchen, living room and dining room, which was probably twice the size of his own living room, and the two bedrooms with a toilet each.

Will started putting everything in its place, or where he believed everything could go in, while Hannibal took the blankets covering the furniture and cleaned the place a little. When Will finished in the kitchen and the pantry, which looked a little like they were preparing for the apocalypse, he went to the larger bedroom. His gaze went automatically to the bed, but he forced himself to look away, blushing, and he tried to focus on putting the clothes they had bought in the wooden wardrobe. Then, he took the last thing he had carried to the bedroom, a duffel bag, and fisted the straps, knowing what was inside.

“What’s that?”

Hannibal’s voice startled him, and he turned around. He was in the door, with his hair loose and a little flushed because of the task he was doing.

“What?”  
“The bag. I don’t remember buying that.”

“Yeah, no, it’s…” Will pursed his lips, but he finally let out a sigh. “It’s mine. It’s just, I thought that maybe… Maybe I would have to come here to help you, and… spend the night or something, or… I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

He looked at him again, and he seemed genuinely surprised. Will had meant it when he had told him that he would help him with everything he needed before he went away, but he hadn’t told him everything. The truth was, he had pictured the situation in his mind, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay completely away from Hannibal. He would be drawn to him, he would want to touch him and feel him in person, and there was no point in denying it. So he _had_ prepared a bag for himself, but he had been a little embarrassed about it, so he hadn’t told Hannibal until that moment.

“Do you need my help with the cleaning?” he asked him then, leaving the bag in the lower part of the wardrobe and closing the doors quickly.

“No, I’m almost done.”

“Okay. I’ll finish with the last bags, then.”

The other nodded, and Will went back to the living room to unpack the last bags with the books and several things. They finished an hour later, and then Hannibal had to disappear, so he made the trip back alone. When he went back to the road, his phone started going crazy, since he had been out of range in the mountains. He saw that Jack had called him five times, so he parked on the side of the road and called him back fearing that something important had happened with the case and he had missed it.

“Will. Are you going today to talk to Lecter?” he asked him, and Will closed his eyes for a moment, mouthing a swear word.

“I… no, I’m not going today. Did _you_ get the deal?” Will asked him.

“I’m still on it,” Jack said, and he sounded annoyed. “But you _should_ be talking to him, Will. He’s willing to see you all the time. Do you think he lets anyone else to interview him?”

“I know, but I don’t think he’ll tell me anything else until we get the deal. Anyway don’t worry, I’ll go see him tomorrow…”

“Fine. I’ll tell you something by tomorrow. Keep trying to think of something, Will. We need to work fast.”

Jack hanged up before he could answer, so he looked at the black screen and shook his head.

“Tell me something I _don’t_ know, Jack…” he said, and then he went back to the road.

That night, he was lying in his bed, looking at the ceiling in the dark, and he looked at the right side, empty. The previous day, Hannibal had gone to bed with him, but they hadn’t touched. That night they had had dinner together as always, but Hannibal hadn’t returned from his room, as he usually did when Will went to bed. He felt his stomach clenching, and he thought that maybe everything would be different from then on, maybe Hannibal would distance himself from Will… and maybe that was for the best. But he still wished he were there, with him.

In that moment, the mattress bent under the weight of another body, and he smiled a little, letting out a contained sigh. Hannibal rolled over his side, and Will felt his gaze burning him, but he didn’t turn to look at him right away.

“I thought you weren’t coming tonight.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I thought you were… mad at me.”

Hannibal didn’t answer, so he ended up looking at him. The light from the outside allowed him to distinguish his features, and Will’s gaze lowered to the curve of his flexed biceps and to his bare chest.

“I’m not mad at you,” he finally said, but Will knew that it was much more complicated than that.

Will looked again at the ceiling and sighed, and he thought of something to say to lighten the mood.

“What do you miss the most about being outside?” he asked him.

He regretted asking him that right after he had said it, so he pursed his lips, although there was no way of taking it back. But when he looked at him, Hannibal didn’t seem bothered by the question; he seemed to be considering it.

“A few months ago I would have said cooking, but I have that covered now,” he said, and Will smiled. “I miss my suits. Well, I actually miss anything that’s not this dreadful uniform.”

Will’s smile grew wider in his lips, remembering the suits and clothes he used to wear on his mind palace. He actually wished to see Hannibal dressed with something that wasn’t the uniform, too.

“I miss going for a walk, but I also miss driving, specially a motorcycle. Oh, and how I miss the piano, feeling the keys under my fingers…” he said, closing his eyes for a second, probably remembering it.

Will observed him and he thought about expanding his mind towards him, maybe seeing or feeling the same as him… But Hannibal opened his eyes again, and he smiled, nervously.

“Is there really _anything_ you can’t do…?” he half joked, and Hannibal smiled a little. “So… What is the first thing you would like to do? If… if you escaped,” Will asked him, adjusting his head on the pillow to see him better.

Hannibal looked at the ceiling, but he didn’t have to think about it for too long.

“I would cook for you.”

Will laughed then, a spontaneous loud laugh that made the mattress tremble.

“You already do that every day…”

“I know. And I would keep doing it every single day of my life.”

He told him simply, with no undertone, and yet Will sensed the hint of sadness in his eyes when Hannibal turned to look at him again.

“I would take you to Italy and I would show you Florence, every single corner and every work of art. You would go fishing and I would cook it for you, and we would read by the fireplace and take the dogs out on the warm Mediterranean evenings…”

Will felt then an abrupt pang of sadness, his heart aching with each of his words. He tried to hide it, but he knew that Hannibal had felt it too, so he closed his eyes, biting his lower lip, and then he rolled over to get closer to him. But he hesitated for a second, thinking that maybe Hannibal didn’t want the contact that night… As an answer, Hannibal put a hand on the back of Will’s neck, and he pulled him closer, so Will tucked his head on his chest and embraced him tightly against him.

He stayed like that until he fell asleep, listening to his steady heartbeats and struggling not to shed a single tear against him.

****

_Hannibal woke up and, even before opening his eyes, he focused and sensed the change in the mattress, in the excessive sunlight compared to the Baltimore room… and obviously, in the body that was now lying beside him._

_He finally opened his eyes and looked at Will. He was still asleep, with his head on the pillow, facing him, and a hand on his stomach, going slowly up and down at the rhythm of his breathing. Hannibal rolled to his side, and then he stroked the few loose curls that were hanging over his forehead, and he felt his chest tightening. He had never felt so many emotions, so wild, inside him, making it rather difficult to remain under control... Although as Will had told him, he_ had _changed him, in ways he didn’t even comprehend yet. But that wasn’t why he felt the abrupt sadness inside him just by looking at him… The reason was the conversation they had had three days before, in which Will had told him that he wouldn’t be going with him once he went away. He would help him escape, and he would probably visit him in the cabin, since he had even left a bag there… But he refused to go with him. Hannibal had feared it when Will had been so quiet while he discussed his plans, but he still had felt so terribly disappointed…_

_Will inhaled heavily through his nose in that moment, and that made him go back to reality, but he didn’t move his hand from his cheek when the other opened his eyes, squinting at the light. He stopped caressing Will’s cheek when he looked at him, and he let his hand slide… but Will caught it with his, and he entwined their thumbs and rested their hands on his chest. Hannibal smiled weakly, feeling slightly better._

_“Are you coming today to Baltimore?”_

_“I think so. Although if it were for Jack I would be there twenty-four hours a day, questioning you…” he said in a sleepy voice._

_“Why aren’t you?” he asked, even though he knew the answer to his question._

_“You know why… I hate seeing you there, behind the glass,” Will said, and Hannibal smiled again._

_Hannibal felt the need to touch and feel him, but he didn’t move, restraining himself once again… but then Will moved closer to him, hugging him and burying his face on Hannibal’s shoulder. His heartbeat immediately accelerated at his touch, so he wrapped him in his arms tightly, closed his eyes and inhaled his scent. He wondered how Will could even think about staying away from him, considering the strong pull they had on each other. He wondered if that was like the time he had tried to vanish him from his life, giving up a couple of weeks later, realizing it was impossible for them to be apart… But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe, since they were already connected, that would be enough for him. Perhaps he didn’t need to have Hannibal physically as much as he needed Will, and perhaps he didn’t desired and longed for him as he did for Will…_

When they went out of bed, Will changed while Hannibal started preparing breakfast, and they ate together once he was ready for work.

Will left the house early, since he was going to go to Quantico before going to Baltimore. But he wasn’t going to see Jack; he went to the university, where he hadn’t been in almost a week. He went straight to his office, and he was picking up a few things that he had left there the last time when someone knocked twice at the door. He turned around and Hannibal appeared in that moment beside him, probably having heard the knocking, so they both raised their heads at the same time. At the door, there was a young woman with an FBI trainee jacket.

“Excuse me, Professor Graham, may I come in?” she asked, and he lowered his gaze again to his desk, not interested the least in solving a student’s doubts in that moment.

“I’m sorry, I’m not here today in the capacity of professor, so any questions you have-“

“I’m actually not one of your students,” she quickly said, and he looked at her again.

She finally stepped inside, and he realized that, in fact, he didn’t remember seeing her in any of his classes. Not that he usually remembered all of his students, but her face didn’t even look familiar to him…

“I also know that you usually don’t act as a tutor for the students’ dissertations, but I was wondering if I could ask you something real quick.”

“You have a minute,” he said, mildly curious.

“Thanks a lot, sir. See, the thing is, I was thinking about writing my thesis about Hannibal Lecter, and I know you studied him, too.”

His heart skipped a beat when she said his name, and he discreetly turned a little to look at Hannibal, who was suddenly _very_ interested in the conversation.

“Yes, I did. Or… I tried, more specifically,” he said.

“Well, I’ve been reading everything about him, and I’ve come up with a theory…” she said, taking another step inside the office and looking at the papers that she had in her hands, but probably more as a habit than because she needed it to continue talking. “Most of the studies about him are focused on what happened to him before he was known as Hannibal the Cannibal, but I like the ones that focus on _him_ , instead.”

Will cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable, but he saw out of the corner of his eye that Hannibal was smiling, alternating his gaze from the young girl to him.

“However, my theory is that… maybe nothing happened to him. Maybe he just _is_ what he is…”

He felt his heart racing in his chest at her words, because that had been exactly what Hannibal had said to him, some time ago. Will had never thought about him as a product of the circumstances, but hearing it from him had confirmed it.

“How interesting…” Hannibal said then, smiling at Will, and he felt slightly irritated.

“I’ve thought about requesting an interview with him, but he will probably deny it as he has done with everybody…” the young woman started saying.

“No!” Will said, hurriedly.

“I’m sorry?”

Will cleared his throat again, and he shrugged, trying to downplay his reaction.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, you shouldn’t try to interview him. He’s extremely dangerous and I don’t think he would tell you anything anyway, Miss… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Starling. Clarice Starling,” she said, and he nodded.

“Miss Starling. You should just keep away from him. Maybe the best thing would be for you to focus your thesis on a simpler serial killer…”

She nodded, visibly disappointed.

“I’ll… think about it. Thanks anyway, Professor Graham.”

He waited until she had left the office, and then he continued picking up the things he had been taking.

“What an brilliant young woman,” Hannibal said then, and he raised his gaze, furrowing.

“Come on, she just has a _theory_ …”

A wolfish smile appeared on Hannibal’s face then, and he put his hands over Will’s desk, leaning towards him.

“Will, are you jealous?”

“Wha-? Of course not…”

Hannibal licked his lips, and then he gave him a long look that Will tried to hold, but he ended up blushing and lowering his gaze.

“I’m not…” he repeated, taking a stack of papers he wasn’t even sure he needed, and finally getting out of the office, which suddenly felt too small.

Hannibal didn’t say anything else while they walked to the parking lot, but he kept his smug smile the entire way, making Will snort when they went into the car and he kept looking at him. He was about to tell him to stop when Will’s phone rang, and he felt a little light-headed while he took it from his pocket, guessing what he was about to hear… And seeing Jack’s name on the screen almost confirmed it. But maybe he just wanted to ask him again if he was going to go to Baltimore, maybe it was a simple update on the case…

“Will,” the other said when he picked it up. “I need you here now. A girl has been kidnapped.”

****

“The name’s Catherine Martin, she’s twenty five years old. His boss called the police when she didn’t show up at work this morning, and a neighbor found a blouse in the parking lot. She said that she saw a van parked right there the previous afternoon, cream-colored, but she didn’t see the driver.”

“And she didn’t happen to write down the license plate…?” Will asked, even though he could guess the answer.

“Obviously not,” Jack said. “But you haven’t heard the best part… She’s the daughter of the senator Ruth Martin.”

Will then smiled bitterly, knowing then why everything in Quantico was so hectic; people were going from here to there, the phones in the offices didn’t seem to stop ringing, three people had interrupted Jack before he had managed to tell Will anything… It wasn’t just that another girl had been kidnapped: it was that the girl had an important family name.

They finally went outside of the building in Quantico, and Jack put a hand over Will’s shoulder.

“I’m not going to be able to go to Baltimore with you, but you _have_ to go… We’ve got the deal.”

Will felt his heart skipping a beat, and he tried to act normal, so he had to clear his throat before speaking again.

“You do…?”  
“The senator herself approved it this morning,” he told him, and Will noticed for the first time the papers he had in his hand. When Jack offered them to him, he felt his heart beating fast in his chest. “We need his cooperation now more than ever, Will, we’re on thin ice here.”

He nodded, and he finally took the papers. It felt like they weighted a ton in his hands. But _of course_ they had gotten a deal the second the daughter of a senator had been abducted.

“I’m not going with you now, but this very same afternoon we’re beginning the transfer so _he_ knows we’re serious about it, and I’ll be there. We’ll first take him halfway to the new facility, and if we manage to close the case with his help in time… We’ll complete the transfer.”

Will nodded, eager to read all those details by himself.

“Call me and tell me everything when you finish in Baltimore, all right?”

Jack went away before he could answer, and he grasped the papers in his hands, fearing they would disappear if he didn’t hold onto them tightly enough.

Less than two hours later, he was arriving to the Hospital in Baltimore. But instead of Chilton, it was Alana who was waiting for him in the entrance. It surprised him, because he had expected him to make a scene about the transfer deal, but Will guessed that Jack had already informed him. So he thanked Alana internally for being the one accompanying him, because he could stand the man less and less each time he saw him.

“Is it true? Did he kidnap another girl?” Alana asked him while they walked side by side, going through one barred door after another.

“Yes. They’re going to confirm it this afternoon in a press conference.”

Alana then stopped abruptly before they reached the last door before Hannibal’s hallway, and Will almost bumped into her.

“Will, I don’t know what Hannibal is playing at with you, but be very careful. He _always_ has a plan…”

“I know,” he said, because it was true. But Alana wouldn’t know what Hannibal’s plan was until it was too late. For a second, he realized what a strange thought that was. To think that, if everything turned out as they intended to, things would change so much in such a short time. And they would have _no_ idea…

She nodded very serious, and then she made a gesture to the camera as she had done in his first visit, and he crossed to the other side.

When he went into Hannibal’s room, that time he wasn’t standing in the middle of the room, but sitting on the stool, behind the table. He was drawing, and he didn’t raise his gaze when he arrived.

“Good morning, Dr. Lecter.”

“Good morning, Agent Graham. Tell me, how is the weather today?”

Will frowned, because Hannibal knew exactly the weather, since he had been with him through the connection. He guessed that it was probably part of his pretending in front of the camera. But Will was eager to tell him the news, and he tried to expand his mind to him so he would sense it and he wouldn’t prolong the game. Then, he sat in the chair in front of the glass.

“It’s sunny, but it’s still cold.”

“The spring tends to do that, doesn’t it? It deceives us into thinking the summer is coming, but then it still makes us shudder with the winter’s cold.”

Hannibal raised his gaze for the first time, and he held it, wondering if he was talking about him with a metaphor.

“You must forgive me, the end of the winter makes me feel quite sentimental,” he said, and he stood up and circled the table to face him. “If you are here, may I assume that you’re the bearer of some kind of deal…?”

“I am,” Will said, trying to control the tone in his voice. “We have a deal for you. It’s a prison in Pennsylvania, you will have a room with a window to look outside, just as you asked for.”

Hannibal smiled then, and that one seemed brighter than his other smiles… Because that meant their plan was being set in motion. He got up to go to the tray, he put the papers of the transfer deal inside, and Hannibal took them and examined them.

“I imagine the prompt settlement means that something else has happened, perhaps…?”

“Yes… Buffalo Bill kidnapped another woman.”

“The sixth already, isn’t she?” he asked.

Will went back to his chair, and Hannibal left the papers on top of the table.

“Yes. He kidnapped her yesterday. Same MO as the other girls; he took her in a parking lot, although this one happened in front of her house. He left only a blouse behind. And… she’s the daughter of a senator, but I don’t think that he knew or cared about that when he chose her.”

“Ah, so that is why they have been so inclined to offer the deal now…” he said, voicing exactly what Will had thought. “Anyway, I suppose that means we’re now against the clock, aren’t we? She has now three days, maybe two. Tick-tock…” Hannibal said.

“We are. You will only get the deal if we get to catch him in time. If the girl dies…”

“I get nothing,” Hannibal completed for him, and Will nodded. “Let’s not waste our time then, Agent Graham,” he said, tilting his head. “Where were we on our last conversation…?”

“We were talking about how Buffalo Bill wants to change… I asked you if he was transgender.”

Hannibal nodded, as a way of saying that he remembered, and then he took a step forwards.

“It’s very hard to say having met him only once, as I already told you, but I would say that he isn’t. I would say that he has attempted to change in many ways, this being only one of them. I would also guess that he applied for a sex change in some clinic, maybe several, but he was probably rejected in all of them.”

“Rejected? Why?”

“Buffalo Bill had a disturbed and violent childhood that would probably make him fail every possible psychological test. He wasn’t born a criminal, Mr. Graham; he was made one through years of abuse. Made him loathe his own identity, which is why he wants to change with such necessity.”

Will lowered his gaze to the documents of the case in his hands, and he looked at the picture of Catherine Martin. She was a plump, beautiful girl… and then it hit him.

“The girls… They were _all_ large.”

Hannibal smiled, and Will knew that he was on the right track.

“Why do you think is that?”  
“It could be his type. Most serial killers have a type of victim: blondes, brown eyes, similar face structure, someone that reminds them of a close person…” he said, remembering Garret Jacob Hobbs’ victims.

“It could be, but these girls are different in everything, except that they have the _exact_ the same physique,” Hannibal said, and Will nodded, thinking about it. “Tell me, Agent Graham, what does Buffalo Bill do?”

“What does he do…? He kills women,” he answered, furrowing his brow, confused by his question.

“No, that is incidental, it’s something that _has_ to happen. What is his _nature_?”

“He’s… angry? With the world, with society, because of what happened to him as a child…”

“No,” Hannibal said, and he took another step towards the glass, standing right behind it. “Doesn’t he _desire_ , doesn’t he crave?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t desire the girls sexually, he didn’t-” he said, but then he understood what Hannibal meant. “He wants to be like them.”

“Very good… And _how_ do we begin to desire things, Mr. Graham…?”

“In what we _see_ every day.”

He looked down, trying to organize his ideas, but he still couldn’t quite find the missing piece of the puzzle. How was he trying to change through the murders, why keeping them for three days and then murder them…? There had to be such a simple answer that he couldn’t grasp yet...

“Who was the first victim, Agent Graham?”

“The first girl they found…” he started saying while he searched for the names in his notepad, and then he froze, and raised his gaze. “The first girl they found wasn’t the first victim.”

“Wasn’t she?” he asked, encouraging him to keep talking.

“No, they found the first victim in third place. It was the only one he took the time to weigh down.”

“And why would he do that with only one of the girls?”

“Because… because he knew her,” he concluded, feeling a little light-headed at the revelation.

He looked at Hannibal, and then he suddenly remembered where they were, and he blinked a couple of times, returning to reality. He had to go to talk to the victim’s family.

“You are so close to finding our Billy, Agent Graham,” Hannibal told him then.

He looked at him and Hannibal held his gaze, smiling. Will finally stood up and went to he tray to leave the papers, as he had done the previous times. He left the rest of the case files there so he could study them, or pretend to do it, and then he pushed the tray.

“I believe the next time we see each other we’ll be in another state, according to the deal,” Hannibal said, and he nodded. “Maybe I will have to congratulate you by then.”

Will swallowed, hoping that would be the situation, too.

“Goodbye, Hannibal,” he said, turning around, and suddenly he realized that he had called him by his name, so he stopped and looked at him again. Hannibal was smiling, delighted by his mistake. “ _Dr._ Lecter…” Will said, correcting himself.

“Be careful, Agent Graham… people will say we’re in love,” he said, and Will felt his heart racing inside his chest.

Will felt himself blushing, and he went quickly away. When he went outside, he cursed under his breath while he crossed one door after another. But when he was already seeing the exit, he heard his name and he clenched his jaw. He still went outside, pretending like he hadn’t heard him, but Frederick Chilton followed him outside and called him again, and that time he turned around reluctantly.

“Mr. Graham…” Chilton said, trying to recover his breath. “Are you going to talk to the victim’s family?”

Will raised an eyebrow, not because he had been watching the interview, which he had already guessed he would be doing, but because he was asking him about the case.

“I’m in a hurry, Dr. Chilton…”

“I guess Jack already told you, but we’ll be making the first half of the transfer today, to Pennsylvania, a few hours from the state prison where he’ll… stay. That is, if you find Buffalo Bill in time, of course.”

Will furrowed his brow, because Chilton didn’t seem to be angry or even irritated about it. He was, after all, going to lose his star attraction, the man who had allowed him to sell books and write articles.

“Yes, he told me. I assume you will be going, too,” he said, trying not to sound too bothered by that.

“Sure, I will be there to supervise everything.”  
“Okay. I’ll ask Jack for the address once you have him settled. We’ll see each other there.”

“Of course,” he said, and he was about to turn around when he spoke again. “By the way, I noticed that you… called him by his name?” he said, trying to sound casual, but Will was sure that he had heard what Hannibal had told him right afterwards, so he looked away. “Be careful with that empathy, Mr. Graham… You wouldn’t want to let Dr. Lecter inside your mind, would you?”

The choice of words almost made him laugh out loud, but he managed to let out only a smile that he tried to hide biting his bottom lip for a moment.

“Thanks for your concern, but… don’t worry about me, Dr. Chilton.”

****

He called Jack to tell him what Hannibal and he had talked about, and he approved his idea of going to talk to the family. Since they didn’t have time to waste, Will went directly to the airport after calling Jerome to ask him to take care of the dogs. Then, he spent the hour that lasted the flight pretending to sleep, but actually visiting Hannibal, and he stood beside him while the staff of the Hospital started preparing everything to move him. When they made him put the straightjacket and the mask on, Will approached the stretcher where they had him tied, and observed him.

“They are _so_ afraid of you…” he whispered, even though he knew they had plenty of reasons to be.

Hannibal looked around them, and in that moment there was only one nurse going out of the room, and a guard standing outside the glass, so he looked at Will again.

“People are afraid of what they don’t understand.”

Will tried to smile, but he was so nervous about everything that was happening and how fast it was happening, that it turned out to be a crooked grin. Then, he raised his hands and touched both sides of his face, feeling the contrast between the cold mask and his hot skin. He wished to be able to take it off, to release him and free him right there, in that exact moment… But he finally lowered his hands, sensing the smile behind Hannibal’s mask.

When he landed in Ohio, he went straight to the victim’s family house in a rented car, and he had to focus on the case and leave Hannibal for a while.

“Mr. Bimmel?” he asked the man that answered to the door.

“That’s me.”

“My name is Will Graham, sir. I’m a Special Agent with the FBI,” he said, and he showed him his credentials.

The man squinted a little to read it, and then his face reflected the sadness of someone who had lost a loved one and received a visit from the police.

“It’s about Fredrica, right?” he asked, and Will nodded. “I don’t know what else I could tell you, I already told everything to the police the two times they interviewed me…”

“Yes, I am aware, but I’m investigating a new lead, that’s why I’m here.”

The man, who had been the father of Buffalo Bill’s first victim, finally nodded, opened the door and invited him into the living room, where he offered him a drink that Will refused as politely as he could.

“As I said to the police, the shop where Fredrica used to work closed, so she went to Chicago for a new job’s interview. She did the interview and she was fine… but she never came back.”

Will nodded, knowing that already from the case files.

“I guess you’ve already answered this question, but do you remember anyone who had recently started being part of your daughter’s life? Perhaps a boyfriend or a new friend…?” Will started asking him.

“No… She didn’t have a boyfriend, not that I knew of, at least. And she went out with the same friends since high-school, especially with her best friend and co-worker.”

“Could you give me her name?”

“Stacy Adams. She works at the town’s diner, she’ll probably be there today.”

Will wrote the name down, and then he stood up from the man’s couch.

“Do you mind if I take a look at her bedroom?”

“Of course. Her room’s upstairs, second door to the right. Everything is just like she and the police left it after searching it. Do you mind if I don’t go with you, Agent? You know, too many memories…”

“Of course. It won’t take me long, don’t worry.”

He walked by the man and went upstairs, and when he found the room’s door, he had to take a breath before walking inside. Going into the bedroom of a victim was always hard; everything seemed frozen in time, like the person was about to walk in and wonder what was an FBI agent doing inside, looking through their personal belongings… But they would never come back, and their rooms would remain like that as long as the family decided that they needed to move on.

Will started looking through her things, and all he found were normal stuff, clothes, a bunch of notebooks that he opened hoping one of them would be a diary of some kind, but with no luck… And then he went to her adjacent dressing room, and in that moment Hannibal appeared beside him.

“Are you in Pennsylvania already?” he asked him furrowing his brow, looking at the watch in his wrist, but it was almost impossible.

“No, we’re on the road. They think I’m asleep,” Hannibal said, smiling a little.

Will nodded and finally opened the sliding door and started observing everything. There were a lot of clothes there, some of them out of place, and he wondered if she had left it that way, or if the police had. And then, in a corner, there was a mannequin with a measuring tape, and he remembered reading in the files that she had worked as a dressmaker. But in that moment, he noticed the pattern of the fabric that she had been working on before dying, and the realization struck him so hard that he had to take a step backwards.

“Will?” Hannibal asked him, touching his elbow.

“He’s making himself a woman suit...” he said, shaking a little.

The pattern was exactly as the cuts in the back of one of the victims, but now that he saw it, it was _so_ obvious.

“ _That’s_ why he keeps them alive…” Hannibal whispered, but Will was already getting out of the dressing room and taking his phone out.

“Crawford,” the voice of Jack told him when he picked the phone.

“Jack! I know what he’s doing. He’s making a woman suit, with their skin.”

“What?” he asked, but Will knew it wasn’t because he didn’t believe him, but because of the horrific nature of his words.

“He keeps them alive three days to starve them so he can loose their skin.”

“Oh, Jesus…”

“He has to be a tailor or a dressmaker, that’s why he’s so skilled.”

“Good job, Will. I’m going to put everyone into trying to find something, but without the name it’s still like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“I know. I’m on my way to speaking to the victim’s friend, I’ll call you if I find out anything else.”

Will hanged up the phone and found Hannibal observing him.

“Did you already know?” he asked him, referring to the revelation he had just had.

“It was one of my theories.”

Will nodded and then he remembered what he had to do, and he went downstairs almost jumping the last flight of the stairs. He thanked the man and told him that the visit _had_ been helpful, and then he went straight to the diner the man had told him.

When he found it, he had to control himself not to run from the car, but he still walked inside out of breath.

“Excuse me, are you Stacy Adams?” he asked to the first waitress he found on the counter, and she shook his head and called her name.

Another woman, that he guessed would be around the same age as Fredrica, approached him.

“My name is Will Graham, I’m a Special Agent with the FBI,” he said, showing her his credentials too.

“You’re here because of Fredrica, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. Do you have five minutes? I need to ask you some questions.”

She nodded and went to talk to the first waitress he had spoken to, probably to explain her why she was taking a break from her work. Hannibal appeared again, and Will wondered where exactly would he be in that moment, but he focused again on the case when the woman named Stacy came back, went out of the counter and led him to an empty booth.

“I know you’ve probably spoken to the police already, but it will be only a couple of questions. You were Fredrica’s friend, but you also worked together, is that correct?”

“Yeah. Well, she was the dressmaker, I only helped her sometimes at the shop.”

“Do you remember by any chance a man working there? Tall, strong build, maybe blonde dyed hair, blue eyes…?”

She started curving her lips downward as a way of saying no to him, but then she seemed to remember something.

“Wait, yeah, now that you mention it, there was a guy like that, he worked there for some time, but he didn’t have his hair dyed. He was a seriously tall guy, and pretty attractive, but he was _very_ reserved; I don’t remember exchanging more than two words with him in the time he was here. He worked on some orders, especially the ones from Mrs. Lippman, that poor old lady, may she rest in peace. One day he just said he was moving out, probably to a big city, away from-”

“Stacy,” Will interrupted her, trying not to sound too eager so she wouldn’t get scared, “tell me, do you remember his name?”

“Well… Yeah, it was a common name, John… John something.”

Will pursed his lips and looked at Hannibal out of the corner of his eye, who was sitting beside him.

“Grant,” the woman said all of the sudden, and Will turned to look at her with his heart racing in his chest. “That was it. John Grant.”

“John Grant? Are you completely sure? This is very important.”

“I’ve always had a good memory for names,” she nodded, smiling proud of herself.

Will stood up from the booth at the same time Hannibal did, and he thanked her at least four times before going out, already calling Jack.

“Jack! I’ve got a name. It’s probably another fake one, but…” he said when the other picked up the phone.

“Give it to me, I’ll put them on it.”

Will did so, and Jack told him to hold for a few minutes. Then, he went back on the phone.

“Okay, they’re already on it, if there’s something with that name, they’ll find it.”

“Okay…” Will said, and he sighed.

“Go to a hotel and rest a little, Will, you’ve earned it.”

“Yeah, I will. But I think I’ll head off to Pennsylvania and rest halfway there. I’ll do the rest of the journey tomorrow,” he said.

“Fine, but don’t push yourself too much. We are arriving to the facility where we’ll be holding Lecter until all of this ends, I think we’ll be there in less than an hour.”

When he hanged up, he suddenly felt like his body weighed a ton. Will was almost sure that it was a fake name, but at least he had _something_. At least, now he knew what that man was doing…

Will turned to his side and saw that Hannibal had disappeared again, so he decided to go straight to the rented car and leave to Pennsylvania. Since it would take him longer to go back to the airport and take a flight, he had decided to travel by car. It would be a four-hours car ride, but it was starting to be late and he was really tired, so he decided to do what he had told Jack; travel for around two hours and then stop in the first motel he found. In the morning, he would make the rest of the journey and reunite with Hannibal in the facility where they were taking him.

On the way, he thought that that very same morning, he had gone to see Hannibal in Baltimore, and now the two of them were on two different states, separated again. He thought too that maybe in a couple of days they would be planning Hannibal’s escape from the prison where he was going to be transferred to. He hadn’t had much time, but he had seen a little about the prison in the transfer deal, and it had a worse security than Baltimore, which was promising.

When Will started noticing that his eyelids were closing, he decided it was time to make a pause, so he stopped in the first motel he found, which looked old, crappy and about to fall down. He thought it would be the last place Hannibal would go as long as he could avoid it, and that made him smile a little.

The room was everything he had expected: old furniture and musty, but the silver lining was that it looked pretty clean. He turned the TV on so he would have a background sound, and then went straight to the bathroom. While he was in the shower, he felt a sudden pain in his left shoulder, and he got a little scared. When he went out, he looked on the mirror, but he didn’t see anything. He got dressed with the clothes he had bought at a gas station on the way there, since he hadn’t had any time to pack any clothes before traveling.

“That t-shirt is lovely.”

_Hannibal was sitting on the edge of the motel’s bed in a stiff position. The sheets didn’t look dirty, but the place was atrocious, and he was a little reluctant to lie there._

_Will turned off the bathroom’s lights and then looked down at his shirt, and a tired smiled flickered in his face; it had a drawing of a pink sheep in the chest._

_“Yeah well… It was this or one of a heavy metal band, and I wasn’t feeling like it.”_

_Will went to the other side of the bed while he rubbed his left shoulder, and then he almost collapsed into the bed, clearly not having the same reservations about the sheets as he did. Hannibal moved a little, resting his back against the headboard to be closer to Will. But before he could extend his hand to touch him, something in the TV caught both of their attention, and Will even sat up to look at it. In the screen, the senator was giving a press conference about her daughter, and she kept repeating her name over and over while the images alternated from her to the pictures of the kidnapped young woman. Hannibal looked at Will, who was staring at the TV with a frown of concern._

_“Please, I know you can feel love and compassion. You can show the whole world that you can be merciful as well as strong…” the woman said on the television, addressing Buffalo Bill._

_“That’s smart. Repeating her name, the pictures… It humanizes her, makes him see her more as a person than as an object, harder to kill… Was it your idea?” he asked him._

_Will let his head fall against the headboard, his eyes half closed. Hannibal felt the need to comfort him through his touch, to embrace him and feel him falling asleep on his arms…_

_“Yes, I told Jack this morning.”_

_“Very smart,” Hannibal repeated. “Do you think Buffalo Bill is capable of compassion?”_

_“I think he’s capable of something, but I’m not sure of what, exactly. He certainly didn’t hurt them before killing them… maybe that’s his way of being compassionate.”_

_He looked at the TV for a moment, and then he smiled a little._

_“Do you think_ I _am capable of compassion?”_

_“Any person would answer no to that question,” Will said, looking at him then._

_“And what would you answer?”_

_Will fell silent for a few seconds, and then he shrugged a little._

_“I’d say that if you’re partial to beef products, it’s rather inconvenient to be compassionate towards a cow.”_

_“Then my compassion for you is inconvenient, Will.”_

_His lips stretched out, and then he looked away, as if he had just remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be smiling in a conversation like that. He took the remote control and turned the TV off, and then Hannibal sensed his distress._

_“I’m afraid of what’s going to happen tomorrow...” he told him before Hannibal could ask him._

_Will dug the heel of his palms into his eyes, rubbing them, and when he looked at him again, he seemed even more tired. Will let his head fall on his shoulder and Hannibal closed his eyes, partly because he was injured, but also because he was finally feeling the contact he needed._

_“I don’t know if I’ll be able to forgive myself if we don’t catch him in time…”_

_Hannibal knew then that Will wasn’t just talking about himself, that he was talking about_ them _. Will had begun to forgive him for everything he had done to him, and he hadn’t had much of a choice in that respect, but Hannibal knew that Will still thought about it sometimes when he looked at him. And if he didn’t find Buffalo Bill on time, he would probably see the dead girl every time he looked at Hannibal; another ghost that would be even harder to banish._

 _“You_ are _going to get him, Will. You are so close…”_

_Will raised his head from his shoulder and looked at him, and his heart skipped a beat at how incredibly beautiful and sad he looked._

_“Hannibal…” Will whispered, and he was so close he could smell the toothpaste in his breath._

_“Yes?”_

_“Kiss me.”_

_Hannibal turned his body to face him, and he put a hand over his cheek, feeling the stubble that covered his jaw under his palm. He grazed his skin with his fingers, feeling through the connection Will’s heartbeats accelerating under his touch, and he smiled a little. Will grabbed his uniform then, opening his mouth and gasping, and he leaned in. Hannibal thought that_ he _was going to kiss him, unable to wait any longer, but he stopped right before their lips touched, and they stayed still with their foreheads joined and their noses touching. And then, Will pulled back so he could look at him. His eyes were changed, the hunger for their contact now replacing the concern and sadness that had drowned him a moment before._

_“Kiss me…”_

_And Hannibal finally did so. He dug his fingers on the back of Will’s neck and pulled until he met his lips with his own, a little too urgent at the beginning. Will’s hands trailed up his back over the fabric of his uniform, and when Will bit his lower lip in between kisses, Hannibal heard himself moan._

_Will then pushed him with both hands on his shoulders, and Hannibal fell with his back onto the mattress. They suddenly were upside down, with their heads at the foot of the bed and their feet touching the headboard of a bed that was too small for them. But Hannibal couldn’t have cared less when he felt Will’s body over his own. Will put his hands on the bed, at both sides of Hannibal’s head to support himself, but when Hannibal slipped a hand under his t-shirt, Will let his whole body fall over Hannibal, breathing heavily at the sudden contact. Hannibal wrapped him with his arms and rolled over without breaking the kiss at any moment, and then he continued exploring with his hands Will’s body, making a trail from the waist of the pants up to his hips, going across his side and ending in his back, pulling him closer to his body while Hannibal left his lips for a moment to bury his face on the curve of Will’s jaw, kissing every inch of skin he could find._

_He felt Will pressing his body against him, as if they could merge into one, as if they could be even more entwined than they already were, and Hannibal felt Will’s erection against his thigh... But he also felt Will’s fear and doubts, which was something that he usually felt when they were going through the unspoken limits. Hannibal loosened the grip on Will, and he leaned on his elbow to be able to meet his gaze. Will was panting and his lips were red, and Hannibal had to resort to every bit of self-control not to kiss him again._

_“I’m sorry...” Will whispered in between breaths, knowing well why he had stopped, and Hannibal grinned._

_“Don’t be.”_

_Will smiled a little, and then Hannibal pressed his forehead against his again. They stayed like that for a while until their breaths came back to normal, with Hannibal running his fingers through the other’s hair, and Will drawing circles in his back with a hand. Then, they moved at the same time, turning over and going under the sheets without the need to say anything else._

_That night, Will hugged Hannibal from behind, and he felt him falling asleep pressed against his back, the hand that was wrapping him slowly loosening the grip on his uniform as he drifted into the unconsciousness. But it took Hannibal a long time to fall asleep, because all he could think was that he wanted more. He was perfectly capable of giving Will as much time and space as he needed to be comfortable with their intimacy, but he couldn’t bear to think that, if he escaped, Will might be staying there while he fled to another country, another continent even. He wanted to feel him every night beside him, he wanted to have him there physically... And he wasn’t sure if he would be able, or even if he even wanted, to live a life free from prison but away from him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, fun fact: when I started writing this chapter, it ended up being a 16k words monster, so I obviously had to cut in down and divide it into two chapters. So yeah, this being the first half, and next week being the second half of what initially was supposed to be one single update hahah.
> 
> I hope you're enjoying this part of the fic as much as I enjoyed planning and writing it! :3
> 
> Also, no songs in this chapter :)


	16. Sixteen

Will jerked in bed, waking up abruptly and looking around, confused. But then he heard his phone’s ringing tone, and he rushed to take the call holding his breath.

“Yeah?”

“Will, it’s me,” Jack told him, and Will felt his heart hammering on his chest, hoping it would be the news he wanted to hear.

“Do you have something…?”

“No, not yet, the team in Quantico is still working on it,” he said, and Will let out a long breath, a little disappointed. “I was just calling to ask if you’re on your way.”

“Eh… not yet, but I’m leaving in a few minutes. I’ll be there in less than two hours,” Will said, looking at the watch on his wrist. It was _really_ early.

“Perfect, we’ll be waiting for you.”

Will hanged up and went to the bathroom to get ready, and he had to repress a tense laugh when he saw his t-shirt in the mirror and he remembered the night before. After putting on the previous day’s clothes and washing up, he focused on Hannibal before going out of the room, and the change of scenery threw him off a bit. He knew it would be a different setting, but it was the first time that _he_ visited Hannibal outside of Baltimore.

The room where they had him was a large and empty room, except for the barred cage in the middle of it, where Hannibal was lying on a bed, with a book in his hands. When Will appeared beside him, he looked at him and smiled, and Will returned it, but neither of them said anything, since there were two guards standing in the entrance of the room.

Will focused again on the motel room, and then he took his things and went on the road again to reunite with Hannibal.

****

“Can I please see your credentials?”

Will took the badge out of his jacket and held it in front of the guard, and he examined it and nodded.

“Special Agent Will Graham, yes. They’re waiting for you. Leave here any weapon you have, please,” the guard told him, and Will took his gun out of the holster and placed it beside many others. “Agent Crawford is in the last room at the end of this hallway,” he said, pointing at the one in their left.

The lobby was full of people, almost all of them policemen from Pennsylvania. But they weren’t there because they needed that many men for Hannibal; they were there to keep the people from the outside to go inside. Will had been able to slip in through the crowd of press, nosy people and even citizens concerned about the news that a cannibal serial killer had been transferred to their state.

He finally went through the hallway the policeman had told him, and he kept his gaze down when he walked by other people, until he got to the last door. It was ajar, but he raised his hand anyway to knock, when he heard the voices coming from the inside.

“…yet. Right now, Will needs to be focused on the job, and this is the last thing he needs to hear. Besides, it was _your_ idea, why are you in such a hurry to tell him now?” Jack’s voice said.

“Yes, I know, but I mean… he’s going to find out about the fake deal sooner or later when he sees that we’re moving Lecter back to Baltimore, so…”

Will pushed the door open, and he looked at the faces there. Chilton, who had been the last one to talk, opened his eyes in shock. Jack was sitting behind the only desk in the room, and there was another man that he didn’t know, which he guessed would be someone from the Hospital that they had taken there to help with the transfer…

“Will, I didn’t know you had arrived. I told them to notify me as soon as you did…” Jack said, looking at the phone on the desk and pretending like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Fake deal?” Will hissed, feeling the rage boiling inside him.

“So you _have_ heard,” Jack said, pursing his lips together and sighing through his nose.

“If you’ll excuse me,” the third man said, and he hurried out of the room.

Frederick Chilton made a gesture as if he wanted to run away too, but Jack pointed a finger at him.

“Not you! Will, come in and close the door, please.”

He did so, but instead of closing it he slammed it, and then went straight to the desk.

“What the fuck, Jack? Tell me it’s not true…”

Will felt his anger intensifying when he saw the look on Jack’s face, and he knew what his answer was going to be, so he didn’t even wait for him to speak.

“How could you _do_ that?”

“We needed Lecter’s collaboration, so we told him what he wanted to hear.”

“But a _fake_ deal, Jack?!?”

“We can’t move him to the Pennsylvania prison, and much less in such short notice, come on…” he said, and the tone in which he said it, as if Will was supposed to _know_ already, made him even angrier.

“I can’t fucking believe you. And you lied to me!”

“Yes, and I _am_ sorry about that, but it was the only way. He’s very perceptive, you know that, and we thought that maybe Lecter would’ve found out if we had told you…”

He turned to look at Chilton for the first time, who was observing everything aside in silence, and Will made a face of disgust without being able to help it.

“It was your idea not to tell me about it, wasn’t it?” he said to him, and then he turned to Jack again, who looked down. That was the only confirmation he needed, so he took a step towards Chilton, fisting his hands. “You fucking asshole.”

“Hey, hey, come on!” Jack said, standing up and raising a hand towards him to calm him. Chilton had moved, hiding a little behind Jack’s desk. “Maybe it was his idea, but in the end it was _my_ decision, okay? We had to act fast, so I made the choice. I’m sorry, but that’s how it is.”

Will took a step backwards, and he laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe you two… I’m sure you’re enjoying this immensely, aren’t you?” he said, looking at Chilton again.

In that moment, he remembered how calm Chilton had been the day before when they had spoken about Hannibal’s transfer, and now Will understood why he hadn’t been bothered at all. Chilton didn’t answer, he just stood there, and Will knew that he was a little frightened of him, maybe because of the look in his eyes that in that moment were probably reflecting all the anger that Will felt inside, or maybe it was the tone of his voice. Whatever it was, Will smiled at him, which made the other furrow his brow and take another step backwards, confused.

“Will, I’m sorry you have found out like this, we were going to tell you eventually, obviously.”

“Yeah? When? When Buffalo Bill was imprisoned? When Lecter was back in Baltimore? When, Jack?”

Jack didn’t answer, so Will turned around. He ran a hand through his face and sighed, and then he looked at him again, having collected himself a little.

“There’s still nothing on the information I gave you?” he asked him in a softer tone of voice, but still so mad he realized he was still clenching his fists.

“They’ve found some things linked to the alias you gave us, but nothing useful. They’re still looking.”

“Fine. I’m going to talk to Lecter, tell him everything I’ve found out in Ohio, see if he knows something else,” he lied.

“Will…” Jack quickly called him. “Do you think that’s a good idea right now…?”  


His lip twitched, but he kept his face straight.

“I think it’s a fantastic idea,” he said, letting the anger he still felt stain his voice.

He glared at Chilton one last time, and then he stormed out of the room. They were keeping Hannibal in the upper floor, so he went to the elevator, avoiding making eye contact with everyone that walked by him so he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. When he arrived, he had to show his credentials once again to the guards outside Hannibal’s room.

“Are there any cameras inside?” he asked while one of the guards frisked him in case he had any weapons.

“No, Agent Graham,” the other guard said.

The guard finished searching him and gave him back his jacket and the papers he had on him about the case.

“Fine. I need to speak to the prisoner alone, so you can stay outside,” Will told them, and they shared a confused look, probably wondering if they were allowed to leave someone alone in there. “Talk to Jack Crawford if you want.”

He didn’t wait for their response, so he just went into the room and closed the door behind him. When he looked at Hannibal, he was already standing in the middle of the cage, lacking a better word for it. Will double-checked that the doors were closed, and then he looked around in case there were any cameras, but he didn’t see any.

“There are no cameras,” Hannibal said, and his voice echoed a little in the spacious room. “Dr. Chilton would’ve gladly installed one, but even he has his limits.”

Will finally walked the space that separated them, and he went directly to him. The cage was circled by a yellow tape on the floor, and Will guessed it was a way of letting the guards know how much they could approach the cage without being in danger. But when he was in front of Hannibal he didn’t care at all about the tape, and he stopped with a feet inside the ‘danger’ zone. The second he looked at Hannibal, his heart started pounding on his chest.

“There’s something troubling you,” he said immediately, taking a step towards him.

Will looked down, with too many thoughts in his mind.

“Will,” Hannibal said, and he finally looked up. He was right behind the bars, and his breath became uneven when he felt him so close.

“The deal is fake.”

He said it simply because there was no other way of putting it. Hannibal stayed very still, a slight frown of surprise betraying his usually calm features.

“I… didn’t know,” he added, hurriedly.

“I know,” Hannibal said without hesitation, and Will swallowed hard, battling the feelings that were crowding inside him. Hannibal trusting him and not doubting him even for a moment made it even more painful.

“I _just_ found out, I’m... It was fucking Chilton’s idea to lie to me, and Jack allowed it…”

Will ran a hand through his jaw, and tried to think rationally, but there were so many things to consider… The fact that the deal was false implied too many things, but the most important was that Hannibal might not be able to escape at all... Will took another step towards the cage and grabbed one of the bars with his free hand.

“I’m not sure when they’ll take you back to Baltimore, but I guess it will probably be when we catch Bill...” he said, and then he looked at him again. Hannibal had already collected himself, but Will could still sense his concern through their connection. “I’ll think of something, Hannibal. I’ll… Maybe I could-“

“Will,” he interrupted him, and he leaned in and put his hand over Will’s, wrapping it against the iron bar. “Don’t worry, it’s okay.”

“But-“

“We will find a way… Okay?” Hannibal said, and his composure reassured him a little.

Will nodded, but the lump in his throat didn’t quite disappear. And then, he thought of something. He moved his hand from under Hannibal’s and searched through the papers, and through his jacket, and he finally found what he was looking for: his pen. He held it, hesitating for a second, but then he passed it to him through the bars. Hannibal took it and quickly hid it in his pocket. Giving him that meant that he was giving him a potential weapon, so Will could be indirectly guilty for the death of people; people who were just doing their jobs... But they had no time to plan a proper escape, so he was willing to take the risk of being responsible for a few casualties.

“Just in case…” he said.

In that moment he noticed for the first time that Hannibal was only wearing the lower part of his uniform; the upper part was rolled on his waist. He was wearing a white undershirt, and he frowned… But then he remembered the pain in the shoulder that had been troubling him, and he noticed that Hannibal hadn’t moved his left arm since he had entered the room, so he tried to look at his back through the bars, but the angle didn’t allow him to.

“What happened to you…?” Will said, and Hannibal smiled a little.

“Just a little accident…” Hannibal said, but Will tilted his head and stared at him, serious. If the pain had been troubling him through the connection while neither of them had been visiting each other, it wasn’t just a minor thing, so he kept looking at him until the other finally spoke again. “I dislocated my shoulder, it’s nothing.”

“How?” he asked.

“In the journey. The straightjacket was a little too tight, the van hit a pothole and I hit the wall in a strange position. But it’s-“

“Don’t say it’s nothing,” Will said, quickly, and he felt the anger rising in his stomach again. “Fucking Chilton…”

Will was sure it was his fault. He probably had made the nurses tighten the straightjacket more than what was necessary. Hannibal smiled at him again, probably sensing his rage, and he was going to say something else when the doors opened with a loud thump and Will jumped backwards, getting away from Hannibal and the cage.

“Agent Graham! Jack Crawford wants to see you immediately! They got him, they know who Buffalo Bill is!” a guard screamed from the door.

The room suddenly felt too small, too hot, and he glanced at Hannibal for a second. He nodded once, and then Will raced to the exit. He ran to the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, and he was downstairs in less than a minute.

“Jack?” he said going inside the same room he had been before, out of breath.

“Will, we’ve found him.”

He felt Hannibal appearing near him, but he was too focused on Jack to look at him. He started walking through the hallway while they talked, and Will walked beside him.

“His real name is Jame Gumb, 36 and it matches the description you had.”

“How did…?” he started asking, but he had to pause to breath.

“The alias you gave us,” Jack said, guessing his question. “Two years ago they stopped him in LAX, he had a carton filled with live caterpillars, I guess you can imagine what kind,” he said, and Will just nodded. “There was a photograph and we ran it through every database. They found him in the known offenders with his real name. And you’re not going to believe the best thing…”

Jack stopped and Will realized they were on the lobby, and the policemen were running everywhere, receiving and shouting orders. A young officer approached them and gave them their guns, which Will took and put in his holster.

“What?” he asked, eager to know what Jack was going to say.

“His last known address is here, in Pennsylvania, around two hours away from here.”

Jack put a hand over his shoulder and squeezed it, a classic ‘we did it, it’s ending’ look, and Will nodded, but he felt like his body and mind were moving at two different speeds.

“Sir, the cars are ready!” someone told Jack.

He started shouting orders, organizing how the cars would go, telling another officer to warn the local authorities to be alert and to start closing the roads leading to the serial killer’s address…

Will had expected to feel content when they knew who and where Buffalo Bill was, satisfied even… but everything he felt while he was standing there, looking at Hannibal, was detached.

****

_Hannibal stayed with Will in the rented car while they set off to Buffalo Bill, but it hadn’t even been a few minutes when the door from the room where he was opened and he had to go back to his reality. Frederick Chilton entered with determined steps towards him, accompanied by two guards, and he knew just by looking at his smile that he was going to do something he wasn’t going to like._

_“I think you already know the big news! They’ve found Buffalo Bill, and they’re on their way to arrest him.”_

_“I’m quite happy for Will Graham. He really needs that to calm his inner demons.”_

_Chilton shook his head, but never losing the smirk on his lips._

_“I don’t know what you wanted to do with him, or what you_ thought _you were doing, but I’m afraid to tell you that your time is up!” he said, raising his hands._

_And then Hannibal knew why he was so cheerful. He was going to tell him about the fake deal, not being able to contain himself at being the one who broke the news to him… But of course, Chilton couldn’t know that Hannibal already knew._

_“You see, I have bad news for you. The senator deal…? That was fake.”_

_He looked down for a second, pretending to be surprised, but Hannibal kept the little smile on his lips._

_“That’s a pity. I was looking forward to that window.”_

_Chilton half closed his eyes, probably wondering why he wasn’t more affected or angry. But he just stood in the center of the cage, looking at him._

_“Well, you won’t have your window. I’m sorry about the deceit, but I’m sure you of all people should understand that lying sometimes is necessary…” he said, pursing his lips in a sarcastic gesture of sympathy. “But you know what? I’m not going to make you wait any longer; we’ve decided to leave right away. So… I would tell you to pack your things, but… yeah…”_

_Chilton turned around to leave the room, but Hannibal took a step forwards._

_“Doctor,” he called him, and the other looked at him again. “If I may, could I appeal for your generosity and ask for a small favor?”_

_Frederick Chilton frowned but he didn’t say anything else, so Hannibal took a step towards the iron bars._

_“As you know, I dislocated my shoulder on the way here yesterday. Would you allow me to travel without the straightjacket? It’s a rather long journey and I would be in a lot of pain.”_

_Hannibal touched a little his left shoulder, as if to emphasize that he was injured. He knew by his look that Chilton would’ve denied his request immediately, but he looked sideways at the two guards that were with him, and Hannibal knew that he had won that battle._

_“Eh… Okay, fine. You will travel without it.”_

_“Thank you so much for your kindness, Dr. Chilton,” he said, trying not to let the sarcasm stain his voice._

_“Consider this a big favor that I will remind you of in the future…” he said, and then he looked at his watch and turned to the guards. “Okay guys, come on, get to work, I want to be on the road in half an hour!”_

_The guards that had travelled with him from Baltimore started entering the room and preparing everything. And he made sure to behave perfectly._

****

Will kept feeling and hearing the things from Hannibal’s side. He suddenly was feeling even more nervous than before, and he tried to close the connection a little to be able to focus on the road, but things still kept filtering: the yell of a guard, the clattering of an iron object, the murmur of several voices far away from him… He finally focused for a second on Hannibal and he saw him sitting on the floor, handcuffed to the iron bars of the cage while a couple of guards entered and exited the squared jail.

“What the…?” he started saying, but then he had to focus on the road again.

Will focused on Hannibal again, but that time he did it so he would appear in the passenger seat, and he did, without the handcuffs.

“What’s going on there?!”

“Dr. Chilton couldn’t wait to announce the news. And apparently he’s _impatient_ to leave. He probably isn’t a big fan of Pennsylvania.”

Will ignored his joke and shook his head.

“What…? Couldn’t he fucking wait?” he yelled, not expecting an answer from Hannibal. “I don’t even think Jack knows that he’s moving you _already_.”

“I don’t believe so, no. But I think Dr. Chilton was eager to recover whatever control he had over me, and with you and uncle Jack busy, this was the perfect opportunity.”

Will ran a hand through his face, careful not to avert his eyes from the police car in front of him.

“Shit, not now…” he said in a whisper.

“Will,” Hannibal said, and he leaned a little towards him over the gearshift. “Focus on your task, don’t worry about me. I’ll improvise.”

Will looked at him for a second, and he frowned.

“You’re going to try to…?”

“Yes. Maybe we will be able to reunite somewhere after you’ve captured Buffalo Bill? At least… so we see each other once?” he asked him, and Will sensed the slight pang of anguish that Hannibal felt at remembering his refusal to going away with him.

He tried to nod in agreement, but it didn’t come out very convincingly given how nervous he was. Hannibal smiled at him one last time, and then he put his hand over Will’s for a second before disappearing. Will felt a shiver running down his spine, not only because of his sudden absence, but because he didn’t think his improvised plan would be successful. He was going to be transferred and all he had against a van and probably one or two police cars full of people was the pen he had given him. Will knew Hannibal was very skilled and capable of incredible things; he had avoided capture for almost his whole life, and he had read the stories about him… But he didn’t like his odds at all.

He spent the following half hour trying to focus on his job. They were on their way to arrest Buffalo Bill, that was what he had to do… but he couldn’t get Hannibal out of his head. He tried to focus on him a couple of times just to see how he was doing, but the other had probably blocked him, because he wasn’t able to reach him, not even once. He wondered if he would be already in the van, on his way back to Baltimore. And he also wondered if he would attempt the escape soon or if he would wait until they were almost arriving…

He tried to battle the thought that had been trying to make his way into his mind, he tried to tell himself that he couldn’t do that… but then he recalled the ‘fake deal’, and he thought about how Jack had used him every time he had needed him, and how Chilton was able to do anything for an article that would make him famous again…

Will grabbed the wheel with too much force, clenching his jaw… and then he made a choice. He veered off, making the police car behind him brake to avoid a collision. And then, he took the opposite road and started getting away from the line of police cars.

He hadn’t even had time to take in what he had just done when his phone started ringing. The cars would be probably communicating though radio, but he was driving the rented car. He took it without looking at the screen, already guessing who that was.

“Will! What happened to you?” Jack yelled at the other side of the line.

“Nothing, I’m okay.”

“Then why the hell did you turn around?!?”

“I… Sorry, Jack, I have to do something. But go get Buffalo Bill for me, okay?” he told him.

“What are you-?”

He hanged up the phone before he could keep talking, and then he quickly called to the building where they had been keeping Hannibal, and he asked about him after he identified himself. A policeman informed him that they were moving him again and they had already left, so he asked him about the route the van would follow. Fortunately, the man didn’t ask him once why on earth did an FBI Special Agent that was supposed to be on his way to arrest Buffalo Bill want the route of transport of Hannibal Lecter. Once the man gave it to him, he hanged up the phone and stepped on the gas. He had almost two hours to make up for until he caught up with Hannibal’s van.

****

_Hannibal looked through the cage that surrounded him at the guard in front of him right when he yawned. He smiled behind his mask, because it was the fourth time the guard did that in the last ten minutes, and probably the sound of the rain hitting the ceiling of the van wasn’t helping him stay vigilant. In the van, there were two other guards apart from his sleepy friend; they had been tense and alert the first half hour of journey, but after that, they had started relaxing, getting distracted sometimes looking at the van’s ceiling, and one had even started checking his phone every five minutes. He moved a little his hands, careful not to make the handcuffs jangle so he wouldn’t attract their attention. He took the metallic part of the pen Will had given to him from a little hole in his sleeve that he had made specifically for that purpose, and then he started handling the lock as slowly and quietly as he could. When he felt the lock opening, he rolled his wrist so the handcuffs didn’t open and drop._

_He then leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his thighs and ignoring the sharp pang of pain that spread from his wounded shoulder. The guard at his left looked at him for a moment, but he quickly averted his eyes. Hannibal waited for a few minutes, and then he looked sideways once again at every guard, and he checked that they were still distracted. Once he made sure that they weren’t paying attention to him, he worked on the cage’s lock. That one was even easier than the handcuffs, because it wasn’t that much of a reinforced cage. He stopped once when the guard at his left had a coughing fit, which made the one in front of him wake up a little, and he had to wait for a few minutes. After that, he managed to open it._

_The last thing where the cuffs from his ankles, but that would be really hard to unlock without them noticing. So, since the only cuffs that were linked to the ring on the van’s floor were the ones on his wrists, he decided that he would have to manage without taking off the ones on the ankles. He looked one last time at the guards, and then he straightened._

_“Excuse me,” he said, and the guard in front of him blinked a couple of times, battling his drowsiness. “I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling very well, I think I need to use a restroom.”_

_“What?” the guard said, and he looked at the watch on his wrist and then at his colleagues, who had started paying attention to the conversation. “It hasn’t even been one hour, hold it.”_

_“I don’t think I have much of a choice in the matter. Would you kindly ask Dr. Chilton?”_

_The guard frowned and he groaned a little, but then he turned to the guard at Hannibal’s right and slid in the benched seat that surrounded the van, abandoning his position in front of him._

_“Okay, pass me that damn radio.”_

_Hannibal made sure once again that he was blocking Will out of his mind. He couldn’t have any distractions, and he didn’t want Will to see or feel what he was about to do, so he had built a wall inside his mind. Then, he looked at the guard at his left, the one he was alone and nearest to the van’s doors, and he made sure that he wasn’t looking at him… And finally, he moved._

_He took the pen from his other sleeve, dropped the handcuffs carefully on the floor and opened the cage. Hannibal did all that quickly but in complete silence, so when he leaped on the guard, the man only had time to open his eyes in shock before he stabbed him in the carotid artery in a rapid movement. Hannibal quickly put himself behind the guard while he started choking on his own blood._

_“Hey, I need to speak to- WHAT THE HELL, JOHNSON!” the sleepy guard yelled, dropping the radio and going for his gun, but it was already too late._

_Hannibal took the first guard’s gun and shot the first one in the head, who fell lifeless to the van’s floor. He pointed the gun at the second guard, but the yelling and the shot probably had scared the driver, because the van made a sudden swerve right when Hannibal was shooting at the guard. Instead of hitting him, the bullet went straight to the driver’s seat. The van veered off violently, and suddenly they were rolling over, with everything turned upside down._

****

When Will saw the overturned van in the middle of the road, his heart skipped a beat and he felt a shiver. He stopped behind the police car that was also there and he got out, evaluating the scene. As soon as he did, he got soaked because of the pouring rain.

The police car had both doors opened but there was nobody inside. There were tire tracks on the pavement that suggested that the van had suddenly braked, which was probably why it had rolled over; it had ended up with half of the vehicle on the road, and the other half outside. It was resting on a side, with the blinkers turned on, and smoke coming out from the front, probably from the engine… And Will saw that there was a body near the back doors of the van. He approached it and knelt by the policeman. He turned him over and checked his pulse, even though he already had known he was dead; he had been stabbed in the neck, and there was a pool of blood on the pavement that not even the rain had been able to clean.

Will didn’t notice how tense he was until he stood up again and he felt the muscles on his back like they were wires. But he ignored it, and then he took his gun out just in case. He circled the van and saw a body on the driver’s seat, killed by what looked like a shot in the back of the head, and there was another body out of the van, near the passenger seat, although that one didn’t have blood on him. He looked around and didn’t see anybody.

“Hannibal?” he called for him, squinting to try to see through the thick drops of water.

In that moment, he heard a noise coming from the van, and his heartbeats accelerated again. He wished for that to be Hannibal, and then he went to the doors of the van and tried to open them. One of the doors opened easily, since he only had to turn the handle and then the gravity did the rest of the job and made it fall towards the ground almost hitting him. Although what made Will jump backwards wasn’t the door, but what he found inside: another policeman pointing his gun at him.

“Wow, hey, easy!” he said, raising the hand with his gun so he would know that he wasn’t going to shoot him.

“Who- what-?”

The man was at the back of the van, sitting in a corner and shaking, although it wasn’t because he was also soaked; he was terrified, so Will raised the palm of his free hand to calm him. He also saw that there were three other bodies inside, from the guards that probably were escorting Hannibal, but he focused on the young policeman.

“Calm down, I’m with the FBI. I’m going to reach inside my jacket and show my badge to you, okay?” he said, and the guy nodded, still pointing the gun at him.

Will took his credentials from the jacket, and he slowly raised it to show it to him. The man, who looked _really_ young, leaned in a little to be able to read it, and then let out a sigh and finally lowered the gun.

“Oh, thank god, I was so sure I was going to die… Is he outside? Is he still there?” he asked, widening his eyes again.

Will looked around, knowing whom he was referring to, although he didn’t see Hannibal anywhere. But the man’s reaction at least told him that Hannibal wasn’t among the dead bodies, and that allowed him to breathe a little, even though deep inside he already _knew_ he wasn’t dead; if he had been, Will was sure he would’ve known through the connection.

“There’s nobody else here.”

The man nodded again, and then he crawled to the door, avoiding the dead guards. When he went out, he started shaking even more than before under the rain, probably still shocked.

“Hey, can you tell me what happened?” he asked him, attracting his attention, since he was looking around with a wild look again.

“Eh… yeah. I- I was in the police car with my partner, we were escorting the van with Hannibal Lecter…”

He stopped talking and then his eyes went to the body that was a few feet from there. Will moved a little, enough to block his view from the body that he guessed would be his partner, and then the other blinked and focused again on what he was saying.

“We, eh… I don’t know exactly what happened, but we were en route and the van suddenly veered off, and before we could do anything it rolled over. We went out to see what had happened, and the car where Dr. Chilton was had stopped a little ahead of the van, too. When my partner opened the door of the van… Lecter jumped on him. I swear, I have never seen anyone moving so fast, so…”

The man made another pause, and he stared off into space, probably remembering the moment.

“He is not human, he is the devil…”

“What happened then?”

“I… I shot at him, but he just vanished behind the van… I tried looking for him, but I couldn’t see him anywhere, and then Chilton’s car drove away…” he said, and Will imagined the situation and it didn’t surprise him a lot knowing that the man had made the driver go away when things had gone wrong. “I locked myself inside so I would know if he came at me… I almost shot you when you opened the door, god…”

Will turned around when the other stopped talking, and he closed his eyes to try to focus on Hannibal to see where he was, even though he had been blocking him since they had last seen each other… but then the policeman’s voice distracted him.

“No… Oh my god, there he is!”

Will turned around again, and indeed, there he was. He came out of the trees that lined the road, and with the smoke that came from the front side of the van and the rain, he looked like an apparition… a beast.

But Will didn’t have time to take much delight in his appearance, because the policeman raised his gun to point it at him. Will made a quick movement, and he hit the back of the man’s head with his gun. The young man fell unconscious on the pavement, and Will looked at him for a couple of seconds, breathing through his mouth… And then he raised his gaze to look at _him_ again.

Hannibal started approaching him with a slight limp on his left leg, and Will put his gun away and finally went to him. He couldn’t believe that he was there, in front of him, after all that time, after everything they had been through. Because even though they had seen each other in person before, it had been through a glass, through the iron bars… But now they were in the open, with nothing that separated them except for the distance that they were erasing with each step…

And finally, they were in front of each other. He looked at him, feeling the sudden need to cry of relief, of joy, of everything he hadn’t wanted to accept.

He took a few seconds to observe him, and he saw that, apart from the limp, he had a few other wounds and he was covered in blood, but they didn’t seem very serious. He still had the mask on, but it had broken, probably in the accident, and the right part had fell, leaving that part of his face exposed. That had caused a few wounds on his face, minor scratches on his cheek and a deeper cut on his cheekbone, but none of them seemed too serious, so Will finally focused on him, and he smiled.

“You are here...” Hannibal said, and his voice sounded harsh. Will saw the look in his eyes, the look that belonged to a predator, but in that moment were changing, softening as Hannibal looked at him.

“I am.”

He saw Hannibal curving his lips in a tired smile, only seeing the side that was out of the broken mask. Will took a step towards him and then he raised his hands to unhook the mask. Hannibal bent his head a little so he could reach it easily, and he stood still while Will undid the strap. Once he did, he took it slowly out, Hannibal twitching a little from the pain, and he dropped it on the ground.

Hannibal then looked up at the sky and closed his eyes, letting the rain fall on his face, now free from the mask… Free from everything. When he looked at Will again, his eyes were watery, and he wondered which of the drops that ran down Hannibal’s cheek were rain and which where tears. Will raised his hands and took his face in them, brushing away the water, the tears and the blood that was left in his cheeks with his thumbs, careful not to touch his wounds, and he felt Hannibal’s intense emotions through their connection… And then Will leaned in, grabbing the wet fabric of his uniform and tucking his head on the curve of his neck. Hannibal embraced him tightly, and he leaned his head against Will’s forehead, and they stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, and too short of a moment, letting the rain fall over them, bathing them while both of their hearts beat at the same rhythm, finally together.

Hannibal didn’t ask him why he was there, because they both knew why. Will being there meant that he had made a choice, a conscious and unconscious one; the choice of going to him, instead of following the most righteous path. He had chosen when he had changed his course, but Will wondered, right there in Hannibal’s arms, if he hadn’t already made his choice a long time ago but he just had refused to see what was right in front of him.

In that moment, Will’s phone started ringing, and he pulled backwards reluctantly. He took it out of his pocket and saw Jack’s name on the screen, so he felt his heart hammering on his chest, and he gave Hannibal a last look before picking it up.

“Yeah?”

“Will, where are you…?” he asked, but his voice didn’t sound angry and he wasn’t yelling, so he frowned.

“I’m… It doesn’t matter. Jack, did you get him? Have you arrested him yet?”

The pause at the other line of the phone made him fear the worst, so when Jack talked again, he had already guessed what his answer would be.

“No, we haven’t… He’s not here, Will. It looks like he hasn’t lived here in years.”

“No…” he whispered, feeling the reality hitting him like a wave. He had been _so_ sure that that was it, that they had him…

“Can you tell me where the hell are you now? You need to talk to Lecter again, see if he knows something else, but I can’t get ahold of Dr. Chilton and I don’t know where the fuck you are.”

Will ran a hand through his face, wiping momentarily the water from his eyes, and then he looked at Hannibal, who was observing him calmly.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“Excuse me?”

“Goodbye, Jack.”

“What-“

He hanged up the phone, and then he let it slide from his hand. It hit the ground with a crack, probably from the screen, but he didn’t care, because all he could hear was his own breathing. They hadn’t found Buffalo Bill… The girl was going to die.

“They didn’t catch him,” he said out loud, even though Hannibal probably already knew. “He wasn’t there.”

Will squeezed his eyes shut, and then he rubbed his temples, trying to organize his thoughts… but what else could he do? He couldn’t go back, and he was out of ideas…

“Will…” Hannibal said, touching his elbow. The contact made him open his eyes and focus on him. “I have an idea.”

Will furrowed his brow, but then Hannibal nodded, and the locks of wet hair swung over his forehead with the movement.

“I think I know where Buffalo Bill can be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this would've been the "second" part of the last chapter, so that's why this one is a little shorter :)  
> Also, 10 points to those who didn't believe Will wouldn't go with Hannibal... hahah (But out of curiosity, did any of you suspect that the deal was fake? ^^)  
>  
> 
> Songs:
> 
> · [The Fall](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8MWglxkw1y4), Imagine Dragons  
> · [Light me up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bl19rs22WMU), Birdy  
> · [Crazy Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPy10D9SVgo), Chelsea Wolfe


	17. Seventeen

Will realized he had been squeezing the wheel when his knuckles started to turn white, so he loosened his grasp and stretched his fingers. Then, he glanced at the passenger seat again, where Hannibal was looking right at him. He gave him a smile, so Will averted his eyes once more to the road. They had been traveling for almost two hours, and they had spoken only a few words in that time. And it wasn’t exactly because they had nothing to say… In Will’s case, it was precisely the opposite. He wanted to say so many things that he couldn’t focus on any of them. And of course, there was something else: he was too nervous to speak.

As soon as Hannibal had told him that he knew where Buffalo Bill could be, they had gotten in Will’s car and he had started driving back to where Hannibal had told him to: back to Ohio.

“What were you doing in the trees when I arrived…?” he suddenly said, avoiding what he really wanted to ask him.

“Taking off the cuffs from my ankles. I couldn’t move properly with them.”

Will nodded, but he thought that, even with the cuffs on his ankles, he had managed pretty well to escape from a van with five guards and deal with two policemen. But his thoughts quickly returned to what had been filling his mind since they had gotten into the car.

“Are you going to tell me why do you think he’s in Ohio?” he finally asked him, ignoring the knot in his stomach.

He looked at Hannibal for a second again, and then he focused on the road ahead.

“When you talked to the first victim’s friend yesterday. What did she tell you about Bill?” he asked him, and Will bit his lower lip.

“That he worked for some time in the same tailor’s shop as Fredrica…” he said, and he saw Hannibal nodding out of the corner of his eye. “That he was reserved, and he said he was moving away, which if you’re right, was obviously a lie.”

“What about the work he did in the shop?”

“She said… that he usually took the orders from an old lady, but I don’t remember her-“

And then Will understood what Hannibal was implying, and he sighed because he couldn’t believe he hadn’t even considered it.

“Of course. He obviously went to her house when he was working on the woman’s orders, he probably spent there some time, saw that it was perfect for what he wanted to do…” he said, imagining the situation, and then he remembered that Fredrica’s friend had told him that the old woman had died. “Do you think he killed her, or that he just waited until she died?”

“We can’t know that… He is definitely cautious and patient; he’s able to wait for as long as necessary to get what he wants. He waited a long time before acting upon Fredrica.”

Will nodded, because he had thought the same thing. He hated that he hadn’t seen it before, that he had been right there in Ohio only a day before, and he had missed the opportunity. In that moment he felt a wave of discomfort coming from Hannibal, and he turned to look at him. He was touching his right biceps, and he tried to see what he was doing.

“What is that?”

The other turned around and shook his head, but Will managed to see that there was blood, so he alternated his gaze between Hannibal and the road.

“What’s that wound?”

“Nothing, just a scratch,” he said, but Will frowned, so Hannibal smiled a little, as if to tell him not to worry. “The policeman. He tried to shoot at me, but the bullet merely grazed me.”

Will shook his head, remembering how the young officer had told him that he had shot at Hannibal but he hadn’t hit him. It turned out, he had been closer than he had thought.

Will looked at him again and then glanced at the clock in the car, and he pursed his lips.

“Do you want me to stop to do something about it?”  
“No,” he immediately said. “It’s bleeding a little, but it’s not that bad.”

Hannibal smiled a little to reassure him, so Will sighed and nodded at his words, and then he kept driving. They spent the rest of the journey almost in complete silence. Will kept glancing at him from time to time, unable to believe that he had Hannibal right there, with him. They had been in that exact position many times before, but always through the connection, always knowing Hannibal could disappear from the passenger seat any time he wanted. But now he was _really_ there. Will had found him, he had touched him and he had wanted to hold him in his arms and not move for a thousand years… but Jack’s phone call had forced them to interrupt the moment and pause everything… And Will _needed_ to go to Ohio and find Buffalo Bill in order for him to be able to think about anything else.

He didn’t ask Hannibal why he was telling him where to find him, or why he was going with him. He didn’t need to, because he knew Hannibal would go with him without needing a reason. But it wasn’t only that; Hannibal was also aware of how much he needed to find and stop Buffalo Bill to be able to move forward… to be able to completely forgive him.

When they arrived in the little town he had visited just a day before, he went to the diner where he had interviewed the victim’s friend, and he stopped the car in an alley so people couldn’t see Hannibal, who was, after all, wearing a prison uniform stained with blood. He cut the engine of the car and looked at him.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Will, hold on,” the other told him, and he stopped with his hand on the door’s handle.

Hannibal leaned towards him, and he took his face in his hands. Will thought he was going to kiss him, so he felt his heart beating faster, but then Hannibal rubbed his thumb across his jaw, and when he pulled back, he showed him the blood Hannibal had in his finger, that had been in his face a second before. Will nodded, unable to say anything out loud, and then he went out of the car. He zipped his jacket while he walked, since he was sure he would have other traces of blood from when he had embraced Hannibal, and he went into the diner. He located the woman with a glance, and when she saw him, she excused herself before a customer to go to him.

“Agent, is there something wrong?”

“Not at all. I’m still investigating a few leads, and I remembered what you told me about the guy who worked for some time in the tailor’s shop. You said he usually did the orders for an old woman…?”

“Yes, Mrs. Lippman. She even ended up requesting him, so I guess she liked his work,” she told him, and then she frowned and leaned on the counter to whisper. “So you think this guy has anything to do with Fredrica’s murder? I mean, you don’t think that he is…?”

“Don’t worry, I’m just checking some leads, as I told you,” Will said, so she wouldn’t get scared, and the woman nodded. “Could you tell me where Mrs. Lippman lived, please?”

When he got back to the car, Hannibal received him with half a smile, and Will told him what he had found out. The old lady had lived outside the town, which wasn’t that far away, but it was isolated enough to be the perfect hiding spot for Buffalo Bill. So when they found the house a few miles away from the town, surrounded by trees and with no other houses around it, he stopped the car and felt his heart hammering in his ears. He looked at the damaged façade, the neglected garden, and he felt the knot inside his stomach tightening. He needed that to be the right place…

“What if he’s not here…?” he asked, without taking his eyes off of the house.

“He has to be.”

Will sensed the slight hint of doubt, but he also appreciated the hopeful tone in Hannibal’s voice, so he turned to look at him and smiled nervously. They couldn’t be completely sure, but it was the only lead they had… so if Buffalo Bill wasn’t there, at least he had tried. At least, Hannibal had helped him get to that point.

“Okay… Let’s go.”

They went out of the car and cautiously approached the door. Without needing any words, they took their position; Hannibal hid in a corner on the front beside the door, with his back to the wall so whoever who opened the door wouldn’t see him, and Will in front of the door, ready. He unlocked the holster with his gun and looked one last time at Hannibal, who nodded at him… so he rang the bell. In that moment, he wondered what his plan was. He hadn’t even thought about what he was going to do if he really found him… Was he going to tie him up, let Catherine Martin go if she was still alive and call the local police once Hannibal and him were far away? Or would he listen to the voice inside him, the one that told him that Buffalo Bill deserved other kind of punishment…?

He observed the door for a few seconds, with his heart racing in his chest, but nothing happened. When a few seconds had passed, he rang again.

“Come on…” he whispered when nobody appeared, and then he rang a third time.

In that moment, the door swung open, and he had to look up at the man that had appeared behind it, dressed with a pair of sweatpants and a loose and half opened sweatshirt with nothing underneath. Will estimated that he would be around 6’5”, and he had dark brown hair and blue eyes. It matched Hannibal and Stacy’s descriptions, but what instantly told Will that he was before Jame Gumb wasn’t that, but the look on his eyes.

“Yes?” the man asked.

Will knew they had interrupted him doing something, since he was visibly annoyed, and he was a little out of breath. Will thought for a second that maybe they were too late, and he felt a shiver running down his spine. But he forced himself to push those thoughts out of his mind, and he focused.

“Good afternoon, sir. I’m sorry to bother you, I’m Will Graham, Special Agent with the FBI,” he said, showing him his credentials, that he still had in his jacket, and he saw the slight change in his eyes, so he hurried to add: “I was looking for Mrs. Lippman’s residence? I think she used to live here…?”

He tried to give him a little smile too, enough so he didn’t think he was there for him, and he saw Hannibal moving an inch out of the corner of his eye. Gumb pursed his lips in a weird smile, too, but Will knew he was tense. They observed each other for a few seconds, and then Gumb finally nodded.

“Yes, Mrs. Lippman, of course. She was the owner of the house before I moved in here. I think she died… I mean, that’s what they told me when I bought this house,” he said, and Will nodded, pretending to believe anything he was saying. “But if you were looking for her, I can give you the phone number of his son, he sold me the house.”

“That would be very helpful, Mr…”

“Walters. George Walters,” he said, faking another smile.

“Mr. Walters,” Will nodded.

“Please, come in. I’m sure I have the card around here…”

Gumb left the door open and then went into the living room. Will looked once at Hannibal, who was still hidden, and then he stepped inside, leaving the door ajar. He followed Gumb with his hand very close to his gun, and the man started searching through a little box full of papers that he took from a piece of furniture.

“So, are you here… you know, because of that girl that died? Are you guys any closer to finding her killer?”

Gumb gave him a little smile, pretending to be just a neighbor with a morbid interest, so Will pursed his lips.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t discuss the details of an ongoing investigation.”

“Oh, of course, I understand…” he said, and then he took a card out of the box. “Ah, here it is, I found it!”

He left the box in its original place and he held the card in his hand, but he didn’t approach Will. He didn’t move towards him, either, so they stood there looking at each other, neither of them wanting to make the next move. And then something caught both of their attention. Will observed the moth that flew between them until it landed on the back of a chair; it was a Death’s-head hawkmoth.

Will looked in that moment at Gumb, whose expression was much more serious, no trace of his fake smile… and then they both moved at the same time. Will drew his gun out of the holster and he shot with no warning, but Gumb had already disappeared into the kitchen, so the bullet hit the wall.

He went into the kitchen, checking before turning every corner, and always with his gun aimed in front of him, and when he saw the half opened door and the stairs that led to some kind of basement, he knew where he had gone.

Hannibal appeared beside him then, looking at the door and then looking at him, understanding.

“I’ll go first,” Will whispered, and Hannibal nodded.

Will took his jacket off so he would be able to move more easily, and he left it over the kitchen counter. Then, he opened the door and checked the first flight of stairs, but he wasn’t there, so he started going down, walking carefully on each step so it wouldn’t creak and alert Gumb, even though he probably would be already expecting Will to go downstairs. When they got down, they found themselves in a basement that almost looked like a cave. The stairs ended in a room whose only purpose was to lead to two other rooms at both of their sides. He pointed his gun at his right, where he could see a few mannequins with colorful clothes hanged on them; and then he looked at his left, where there was a room with metallic tables that looked like the ones you’d expect to find in a butcher’s shop, and he knew right away what those were for.

“I’ll go this way,” Hannibal said to him then, going to his right.

Will turned around and grabbed his forearm to stop him, but he loosened his grip when he remembered Hannibal’s dislocated shoulder.

“He might be armed, Hannibal.”

“So am I,” he said, and then he raised his right hand, where he had a small but sharp knife.

Will supposed that he had taken it from Gumb’s kitchen, right before going downstairs. He didn’t like the idea of going separate ways, but it would be the most effective and fast way of finding him, not to mention that Gumb was only aware of Will’s presence, not Hannibal’s, and they had the surprise element in their favor. So Will finally nodded, but he didn’t let go of Hannibal’s arm right away.

“Be careful.”

Will frowned, because maybe it was a little silly to say that in that situation... But Hannibal gave him a little smile, and he nodded once. Will finally released him, and Hannibal went into the room at his right, moving slowly and limping a bit because of his wounded ankle. When he disappeared from Will’s sight, he felt a little uneasy, but he could still sense him thanks to the connection. It wasn’t like when they were visiting each other, but it was like he could _feel_ his presence somewhere close now that they were together.

He finally blinked a couple of times and then he took his gun again with both hands and went to his left. The room with the metallic tables had also a big sink and a rolling table with so many knives and tools that made it look like a torture chamber. Will had to pause a second to push out of his mind the macabre images that were trying to make their way into him, and then he focused on the path ahead of him. That room led to another room what was full of moths flying freely from one place to another. They were, of course, the same kind they had found inside one of the victims and the head of Benjamin Raspail. He made his way through that room dodging the bugs that were flying over him, and then he went into the adjacent room, which was darker than the other ones, but at least he saw that there was a window. It was completely covered in newspaper pages, so he left the door of the moths’ room open, and with the help of the dim light entering through it, he approached the window and tore the papers off. Once he had more light, he saw that the room had a table full of books, papers and stacked up junk, so he turned to the next door, but he noticed that there were two doors in that room: one that was right in front of the door from where he had entered, and one that was in the wall in front of the window and him. So he raised his gun again, and he went to that second door. He put his back against the wall and then he opened it and pointed the gun around him, examining it. He didn’t see Gumb anywhere, but that room was much more ample. The ground there was earthy, with no tiles or floor of any kind covering it. There were doors to other rooms all around it, and in the farthest part of the room there was a huge hole in the ground that looked like a well. He left the door open so the window lighted up that room a little too, since the only source of light was a single light bulb in the center, and then he checked again that Gumb wasn’t there while he approached the well. He saw that there was a sort of rope ladder aside, and then he knelt and looked inside. What he saw made his heart skip a beat, mostly out of relief… because there was a girl down there. She looked dirty and in a bad condition, but she was alive... They weren’t too late.

“Catherine? Catherine Martin?” he whispered, smiling a little.

“Yes! Oh my god, help me, please!” she cried out when she realized he wasn’t Gumb, as she probably had feared.

“Shhhh,” he said, turning around to make sure Gumb wouldn’t catch him off-guard. “Listen, I’m with the FBI,” he said, which wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t that much of a lie, either. “I’m here to help you, but I need you to stay here and stay quiet, okay?”

“What? No, please, don’t leave me here, please, no…”

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” he said, and she finally nodded while she sobbed, because she didn’t really have another option.

Will noticed then the little dog that she was holding in her arms, and he frowned, wondering what was the animal doing there and if that was perhaps Gumb’s dog. He tried to imagine the situation right before they had interrupted him by appearing in his doorstep, but there were too many possible scenarios, and he couldn’t worry about that in that moment. He stood up, and just when he was turning around, the lights got suddenly shut off. He still could see thanks to the open door he had left, but he walked carefully towards it pointing his gun everywhere while his eyes adjusted to the new level of darkness in the room. When finally got to the door, he opened it as much as he could so the window’s light would enter in the room, and he saw that the light in the moths’ room was still on, so Gumb had only turned it off in that part of the basement.

Will stood there with his back against the door and looking around the room, wondering if Hannibal would be behind one of the doors that led there, and where would Gumb be. But then it occurred to him, what if Hannibal had found him? Or what if Gumb had found Hannibal…? He felt the concern taking over him with that last thought, so he decided to focus on Hannibal through the connection so he would know where he was and if he was okay. Will made sure once again that he didn’t see anyone in the shadows, and then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes to focus. But it wasn’t as easy as it had been when he was alone in his room, so he tried to take a deep breath. All he could hear then was his own heartbeats hammering inside his chest, the distant flickering of the light in the moths’ room… and footsteps coming from the room with the window, the one that was just at his right. Will turned around and opened his eyes while he raised the gun again, but everything happened too quickly: Gumb grabbed him by the wrists and pushed the gun upwards. Will pulled the trigger a second too late, so the shot went up, which caused that the dirt from the ceiling fell over them and blinded him for a second. He tried to break free from his grasp, tried to aim the gun again at him, but the man was bigger and stronger, so they struggled for a moment, but Gumb ended up smashing Will’s hands against the door in which he had been leaning, and he lost control of the gun, that fell somewhere on the ground. Gumb charged at him again, that time taking advantage of his size and using his whole body to throw him violently against the door. Before he could receive a third blow, he hit the man with his knee in the crotch the second he had the opportunity, which made him grunt and bend with the pain. Will took advantage of his temporary freedom and he tackled Gumb, throwing him to the ground. He didn’t wait for him to recover, and the second he could, he put himself on top of him, moved his elbow backwards, and then punched him in the face as hard as he could. Will remembered every victim, every body they had found in the rivers, every bit of skin he had taken from them, and he let all the rage he felt guide his fist again and again. He kept hitting him until he couldn’t tell apart the blood from Jame Gumb’s face and the one from his knuckles. Will kept beating him while he thought that, since he had wanted to change so much, he would help him change, he would give him a new face…

But when he raised his fist once again to hit him, Will suddenly felt something in his abdomen, and he lowered his gaze, taking his eyes off of Gumb’s face for the first time. When he saw the handle of the knife sticking out of him and the blood, he frowned, confused… Will got off and away from Gumb, half crawling and half stumbling, grabbing the handle of the knife and trying to get up, but he didn’t need to, because something hauled him and put him on his feet. Gumb grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him against the nearest wall. Will clenched his jaw when his back hit the hard surface and Gumb grabbed the knife… and then he felt the blade sinking deeper inside him. He groaned in pain, grabbing the man’s hand on top of the knife, trying to prevent what he meant to do, trying to stop him…

“What a pretty face you have, Agent. I’ve only taken women’s skin, but maybe I could make an exception with yours…” he whispered to him, showing his bloody teeth in a crooked smile.

He tried to push him away with his free hand, but he suddenly had lost all his strength, and when Gumb started moving the blade still inside him, he grabbed his hand even harder, trying to stop him from gutting him...

Will then saw a light appearing ahead of him and a figure came from it. He smiled, shaking.

_Gumb was with his back towards him, so he didn’t see him coming. He wasn’t aware of Hannibal’s presence yet, but he was feeling Will’s pain, so he didn’t even bother to slow down to keep him from hearing Hannibal approaching him; he just went straight at him as fast as his wounded ankle allowed him to, and then he grabbed the knife in his right hand harder right before raising it and stabbing the man in the chest. Gumb yelled, out of surprise and pain, and Hannibal used his advantage to push him away from Will, throwing him to the ground and feeling a sharp pain in his left arm because of his dislocated shoulder. The second Will was free from him, Hannibal held him before he collapsed to the ground._

_“I’ve got you,” he said._

_Will leaned against him completely, panting and groaning from the pain of the stab-wound, and Hannibal held him, careful of not crushing with his body the knife that Gumb had left in Will’s abdomen. Once he had him in his arms, he felt better than he had felt a few seconds ago, when he was searching for him in the labyrinthine basement while he sensed his distress. But he couldn’t forget about Buffalo Bill, so he turned around while holding Will, and he saw that the man had disappeared, probably to recover from his attack._

_Hannibal felt that Will was a little steadier, so he pulled back a little to look at him, and he took his face with his hands. He was still trembling, but Will grabbed his uniform, looked at him and gave him a shaky smile, and Hannibal felt the fear he had felt fading a little. He had been so close to losing him, if it had taken him just a few more seconds…_

_Hannibal put his hand on Will’s stomach, feeling the warm blood flowing from the wound, but he checked in a second that it wasn’t lethal. The stab was in his right side, a little below the navel, so he hadn’t stabbed any important organs, and it would take him a long time to die from blood loss, so he was okay. He_ would _be okay._

 _But Hannibal didn’t have any more time to think about what to do next, because he suddenly saw Jame Gumb coming at them from the shadows, with the knife_ he _had used against him now in his hand, ready to use it. They wouldn’t have much time to dodge him before he reached them, but he knew that he would obviously hit Will first, since he was with his back towards him: he was right between Hannibal and Gumb. So he made a quick but easy choice… Hannibal pulled Will closer to him again, embracing him and turning around in a swift movement, putting himself as a shield. He felt Will grabbing his uniform tighter, probably when he saw the man coming towards them, and then he felt the sharp stab in his left shoulder blade, the same he already had wounded, so he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. The strength of Gumb’s collision sent Hannibal against the wall, where he crushed Will with his body, but he didn’t let go of him. Before he could react, Gumb took the knife out and stabbed him again right next to the first one, and Hannibal groaned a little. But he didn’t wait for him to attack again, he acted: he elbowed Gumb in the face with his right arm, making him release the handle of the knife, that was still inside his back, and then he looked at Will, grabbing the knife in his stomach. Will immediately understood what he wanted to do, and he nodded, not even a little hesitant… So Hannibal took the knife out in quick pull. He heard Will’s suppressed groan and sensed his pain, but he focused on his own movement, and he swung the knife backwards, managing to cut Gumb in the face when he was still recovering from his blow. He screamed again, stumbling away from them and covering his face with his hands, so Hannibal could finally turn around, adjusting the knife in his hand._

_He looked again at Will briefly, who took a shaky step towards him and grabbed the knife Gumb had stuck into Hannibal’s back. He nodded at him, panting from the effort but feeling euphoric when he saw the look on his face. He was in pain, he was tired… but Will was also ready to hunt. Ready to kill with him._

Will put a hand over the wound in his stomach, and he grabbed the handle of the knife from Hannibal’s shoulder with his other hand, and started taking it out as carefully as he could. But they didn’t have time to waste, so he finally pulled it out. When he did, Hannibal clenched his jaw for a second, and then he turned to him again, and he recognized the expression in his eyes; they were the same as when he had found him that very same day; they were his predator eyes.

Once both of them had a knife in their hands, they finally turned to face Gumb at the same time.

“Who the _hell_ are you?!” he yelled at them, visibly angry.

Gumb was getting up with a hand still on his face, only covering a part of the long cut Hannibal had made with his attack: it was a thin line that went from his chin to his forehead on the opposite side of his face. But right when he was asking them that, he gazed at Hannibal and his eyes widened, probably recognizing him as the psychiatrist that had treated him briefly and that later had turned out to be The Chesapeake Ripper.

The room was now much more illuminated than before, thanks to the door from which Hannibal had entered, and probably because his eyes were already adjusted to the darkness. So when Gumb recognized Hannibal, Will was able to see the change in his expression; he went from being furious to being scared.

Hannibal and Will moved at the same time and they started moving towards him, circling Gumb and slowly closing every possible escape. But Gumb wasn’t going to give up easily; he recovered from the shock and then took from the elastic of his pants another knife, and he pointed the blade at Hannibal and then at him while they surrounded him.

When Will was opposite of Hannibal with Gumb right between them, they looked at each other. Hannibal gave him a slight nod, and Will understood without the need of words. He focused on Gumb and then he took a step towards him, pretending like he was going to attack him, which attracted his attention. Gumb turned his body to him a little, exactly as Will had intended. It was a second, but his mistake was more than enough for them; Hannibal took advantage of that, and the second Gumb turned to Will, he attacked.

_Hannibal leaped on Gumb, ignoring the pain in his foot and shoulder. They might only have one chance, and he didn’t plan on missing. So he jumped to Gumb’s back, holding onto him with his injured arm and his legs, and at the same time he stabbed him in his side. Gumb screamed and started swinging his own knife to attack him back, but Will made his appearance in front of him, holding Gumb’s hand with the knife before he could hurt him. Hannibal didn’t lose a second, and he stabbed him again in the chest, in the opposite side of where he had first attacked him._

Will used Hannibal’s strike to disarm Gumb, and he threw the knife away. But Gumb suddenly grabbed him by the neck with his hands, choking him. Will used his own knife and stabbed him in the stomach at the same time that he saw Hannibal lowering his face and biting off Gumb in the space between his shoulder and his neck. Gumb howled in pain and released Will, who inhaled heavily and grabbed the wound of his stomach again, feeling the pain clouding his sight for a moment.

Their combined attack made Gumb fall on his knees, bleeding out from all the wounds and almost completely weakened. But they couldn’t stop now, not when they had almost defeated him. Will raised his eyes and looked at Hannibal, who had put himself behind Gumb. He grabbed him by the jaw and made him look up, exposing his neck while Gumb tried to weakly free himself from his grip.

Will looked at him for a second, panting and trembling, and then Hannibal nodded once more, so Will focused on Gumb again. He bent a little twitching from the pain, and he took his knife, that had been buried in Gumb’s side. Then, he took Gumb’s face with his free hand, running his fingers through his cheek and grazing Hannibal’s hand with the movement. He put the point of the blade right below Gumb’s jaw and in the last moment, he looked up at Hannibal, who was right in front of him… And then he sliced his throat while he looked at him in the eyes.

_Hannibal held Gumb’s face while he made a last attempt of struggling, but he resisted it and maintained his neck exposed for Will. Right when the blade touched the man’s skin, he looked at Will and expanded his mind towards him. And then he felt it; his satisfaction, how good Will felt when the blood started flowing from Gumb’s neck and he felt the man losing all the strength he had left… And Hannibal felt his chest swelling with pride._

_He finally released Gumb, letting his body drop on the earthy ground, on with a pool of his own blood. Will looked at him for a second, and then he dropped the knife he still had on his hand... and finally, he went to him._

_“See?” Hannibal told him in between breaths, looking for a second at Will’s hands, covered in blood. “This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us.”_

_Will was shaking, and Hannibal could sense his intense pain, so he held him when he leaned on him and grabbed his uniform. But despite the pain, despite the wounds, when Hannibal looked at him, Will smiled._

_“It’s beautiful…”_

_Hannibal felt his heart skipping a beat while a tear rolled down his cheek, and Will finally pulled him closer. Will grazed his lower lip with his tongue, brushing the blood on Hannibal’s mouth, and then their lips collided in a shaky, but perfect kiss. Because he had kissed Will before, but that one was the first time their lips touched while they were physically together. So when Hannibal tasted the blood from Will’s lips, he felt as if nothing else mattered, as if everything around him had suddenly disappeared except Will._

_He held onto him while they kissed, and Hannibal wished they could freeze that moment forever… But then he felt Will breaking the contact and groaning with pain, so he held him tighter, returning to the reality: they were both badly injured, and he needed to take care of Will’s wound before the blood loss was too serious._

_“Come on, we have to treat that wound…” Hannibal told him, caressing his back and remembering his own pain in the other arm._

_“Catherine Martin,” he told him then, pulling back and looking at the other end of the ample room, where he noticed for the first time that there was a sort of well in the ground. “We have to get her out…”_

_Hannibal stopped him, since he was already trying to head towards it._

_“I’ll do it.”_

_Will nodded, probably realizing he wasn’t in condition to do anything, and he let Hannibal walk him to one of the open doors, probably the one from where Will had entered. He leaned against the door, and only then, Hannibal released him, twitching a little because of his own pain._

_“Go,” Will told him, nodding and freeing his arm too._

_Hannibal went towards the well limping and with his left arm against his stomach, trying not to move it at all. When he finally reached the hole in the ground, he knelt with difficulty and looked down. Inside, exactly as Will had said, there was a woman covered in dirt and holding a white little dog, so he tilted his head._

_“Hello,” he said, and she looked up, startled._

_She had to have heard the fight, but she probably didn’t know the outcome, whether his captor had won or not, so she was still frightened. Hannibal looked around him and saw a sort of handmade rope ladder that Gumb probably used to leave and take the women he had kidnapped, so he warned Catherine Martin, and then he let the ladder fall downwards. He held it with his right hand so it would be steadier, and then he helped the woman climb out of the well with the dog still pressed against her chest. She fell on her knees panting and sobbing, hugging the dog so strongly that Hannibal feared she was going to hurt him, so he touched her shoulder and she finally looked at him with fear in her eyes._

_“Are you… are you with the FBI, too?” she asked him, shaking, and he smiled a little._

_“No…” he said, shaking his head._

_He looked at Will for a second, who was a little away from them. He hadn’t been able to stay on his feet and he had slipped to the ground, with his back to the door and his hand over the wound of his stomach. Hannibal had to swallow to keep talking, so he turned to the woman and gave her a quick squeeze on her shoulder so she would look at him again._

_“Oh my god, what happened to him…?” Catherine Martin asked, looking at Will with her eyes widened, but then she turned to Hannibal._

_“Miss Martin, listen to me. You are going to get out of this house, and right in front of you, you will see the road that leads to the nearest town. Go to your left. It’s not very far, so you can do this. Follow the road, and once you get there, go to the police and tell them everything,” he told her, and then she averted her eyes again, looking back at Will._

_Hannibal got on his feet and he clenched his jaw when he felt a pang in his ankle. Once he was up, he offered his right hand to the woman, and she took it while she looked around, shaking and crying. But Hannibal needed her to be half aware of what she was seeing, because he had counted on that: she would tell the police about the man who had taken her out of the well, a man that she would probably identify as Hannibal Lecter when she wasn’t in shock and when she saw his picture in every newspaper and TV news program because of the escape. She also would tell them about the FBI agent bleeding out on the ground, unable to help her. They would find the blood, the signs of struggle… and then police and the press would fill in the gaps with whatever story they needed to tell themselves that would actually be far away from the reality. But he_ needed _that story as a plan b, just in case._

_“Miss Martin…” he repeated, making her look at him again. “Take the dog and go.”_

_She finally nodded, and then, after giving him a last look of confusion, probably realizing he was wearing a prison uniform under all that blood, she went hesitantly to the door where Will was almost lying. But while she was going there, she saw Gumb’s body on the ground, half hidden in the shadows, so she covered her mouth with a hand, containing a scream. And then she ran away and disappeared through the door, not stopping when she walked by Will._

_Hannibal retraced his steps, and when he was in front of Will, he offered him a hand and he took it. Will stood up arduously and panting from the pain when he finally was on his feet, so Hannibal had to hold him again, passing his right hand over his back. They helped each other while they walked through the rooms, until they got to the first one in which Will had went when they had separated. Hannibal had seen the metallic tables, and he had known right away what his use had been, but now they were going to be perfect for him to treat Will’s wound, so he made him lie down in one of them. Will clenched his jaw and groaned again when he did, and then he stayed very still, with his eyes closed and breathing heavily from the effort. Hannibal grabbed the edge of the table and swept his forehead with his other hand, brushing sweat, blood and curls back._

_“I’ll be right back.”_

_Will opened his eyes a little at the sound of his voice and he gave him a weak nod, but he closed his eyes again, since he didn’t even seem to have the strength to keep them open. Hannibal then felt his heart skipping a beat, because maybe Will had lost more blood than he had estimated, maybe he had less time than he had thought. Maybe the time he had wasted getting Catherine Martin out of the well had been too much…_

_But he pushed those thoughts out of his mind, and he started moving; he went out of that room, walked in front of the stairs and then went to the first room where he had gone in. It was a room full of mannequins, clothes and materials of all kinds, something that would be normal for a tailor... But of course, in the center there was too the unfinished woman suit Buffalo Bill had been making out of the skin of his victims._

_It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for: needles, thread, bandages, clean cloths and a lighter. Then, he went to the next room where he had gone through before, which was a bathroom. He searched through the dirty cabinets and found a first-aid kit that looked ancient, but it would have to do. He tried to look for any kind of analgesics, but he didn’t find any. Once he had everything else, he went back to Will, and for a second he froze under the door, seeing how still Will was on top of the table. He had to expand his mind towards him, and only when he sensed that he was breathing, he let out the breath he had been holding, and finally he approached him._

_Hannibal took a stool that was nearby, and Will opened his eyes and looked around them while he sat and started placing everything on the table, but then he started breathing faster, his heartbeats accelerating. Hannibal feared that he was entering in shock because of the blood loss, but then he felt Will’s anguish, so he touched his arm and completely expanded his mind to him. He understood then why he was feeling that way; they were in the room where Jame Gumb had skinned the girls. He had killed them and he had taken parts of them to build himself a suit, and Will’s empathy was making him imagine those scenes as clearly as if he had been there himself. Will tried closing his eyes again, but once his imagination had started working, it wasn’t something Will could control as much as he would like, especially when he was so badly injured. In another circumstance, Hannibal’s touch probably would’ve been enough to calm him, but he couldn’t instill his usual calmness on him in that moment… Although there was something he_ could _do, and Hannibal focused for a moment. It didn’t take him long to select a memory, and then he let his mind palace surround them, changing the setting completely. The walls turned wooden, the metallic table where Will was lying became a bed, and the cold, dark room turned into a well-illuminated cabin with the heat of the flames reaching them from the fireplace. Will looked around him and Hannibal saw the recognition in his eyes, and his breathing finally started going back to normal, the images in his mind beginning to slip away._

_“Thanks…” Will said, still half panting._

_Hannibal looked for a second at the room, and then he started working. He cut Will’s shirt with the first-aid kit’s scissors, and he started cleaning the wound with a cloth as carefully as he could. After that, he sterilized the needle and cleaned the wound again with the alcohol, which made Will frown and clench his jaw. Finally, he took the thread and needle, and he faced the large wound… and then he started stitching him up. The second the needle went through his skin, Will grimaced from the pain and grabbed Hannibal’s uniform on his side, but leaving him work. The wound was under Will’s navel, a little to his right side, and Hannibal thought that if he hadn’t stopped him, Gumb would’ve probably cut him from one side to the other, which maybe wouldn’t have killed him right away, but it would’ve surely been faster, and much harder to close._

_“You know where we are, right?” Hannibal asked him._

_He could still feel Will’s uneasiness merged with his pain, so he tried to take his mind a little off, and talking to him would probably help him. He didn’t take his eyes off of the wound, but he saw Will nodding weakly out of the corner of his eyes._

_“The cabin from Jack and Bella’s anniversary party…” Hannibal still told him, and then the corners of his lips turned upwards in a smile. “Where you kissed me for the first time.”_

_Will grunted a little in what probably would’ve been a chuckle in another situation._

_“Yeah, our first kiss… When I still didn’t know the truth…” he said, and Hannibal felt the resentment in his voice, so he frowned a little._

_Hannibal had a different feeling about that memory. It had been the first time Will had kissed him, catching him completely off guard. No other person had surprised Hannibal as much as Will did…_

_He felt that Will’s anxiety had almost completely receded, so he continued talking, partly to keep his mind off the pain, but partly because he needed to share that with Will._

_“When you kissed me that night… you surprised me,” he confessed to him, because he probably didn’t know that; back then he still had had the encephalitis, which had been like a wall between them, cutting down the things that crossed through the connection. “But not only that… That night, I decided that I couldn’t keep playing along with your idea of me being a hallucination. In that moment I knew that I wanted- That I_ needed _you to know that I was real. That the kiss had been real.”_

_He finished with the stiches, so he left the needle and thread aside and he turned to Will, who was looking at him. And then he felt it; Will’s bitterness about the memory going away when he sensed Hannibal’s feelings. Because Will felt not only what he had told him, but also the things he wasn’t saying: that it had been the moment in which Hannibal had been completely aware of how intense were his feelings about him._

_“Maybe that first kiss wasn’t that bad, after all,” he whispered, and Hannibal smiled._

_He concentrated again on Will’s wound and he sit up a little in the stool, ignoring his own pain on the shoulder and letting his mind palace dissipating around them now that Will was composed._

_“I need you to sit up so now I can bandage you.”_

_He answered him by releasing the grip he had been holding on his uniform the entire time he had been stitching him up, and then he started trying to sit up. Hannibal stood up and helped him with his good arm, and once he was sitting at the table with his feet dangling from the edge, Hannibal grabbed Will’s shirt and looked at him, almost asking for his permission. But he didn’t wait, because he knew he didn’t have to; he just started unbuttoning what was left of the shredded and blood-soaked clothing, and then he carefully took it off from his shoulders. Will observed him through the process, helping him by making it easier whenever he could. Then, Hannibal finally took the bandages and then he put one end in his side and Will held it with his hand without Hannibal having to ask him._

_“How much time do you think we have…?” Will asked him then._

_Hannibal knew what he meant; Catherine Martin was on her way to warn the police, as he himself had told her to, and soon Buffalo Bill’s house would be filled with people. But Hannibal didn’t plan on them being there when that happened._

_“Considering her condition and how far the town is… I would say we still have some time,” Hannibal said, and he smiled at him so he wouldn’t be worried._

_Will smiled a little too, and when Hannibal started circling his stomach with the bandage, he lifted his hands with difficulty and placed them on his shoulders, careful not to hurt him in his wounded one. Once he finished, Will touched the wound lightly above the dressing, and then he looked at him._

_“Tell me I can do for you,” he said, nodding at his shoulder._

_Hannibal couldn’t stitch himself up considering where the wounds were, but he doubted that Will was in any condition of doing it himself either. So he just took the alcohol, gauze and more bandages and put them beside him on the table._

_“A bandage will suffice,” he said, unzipping his uniform carefully._

_Hannibal took his right arm off the uniform easily, but when he had to do the same with the injured one, he did it slowly, and he still felt a sharp pang when he started removing the fabric from the wounds. But then he felt Will’s hands on top of his, so he let the lapel go. Will took both ends of the uniform with his hands, and he started taking it off carefully. It still hurt, but much less than doing it on his own. When he finished, he let the upper part of the uniform hanging on his waist, and then he gave Will the scissors to cut the undershirt, since it would be much easier than trying to take it off. Hannibal looked at him while he was doing that, and his lips curved upwards, feeling a warm sensation in his chest despite all the pain. Having Will beside him, attending each other’s wounds after having killed someone… That wasn’t something he had been used to, but it was something he_ could _get used to so easily…_

_He stayed still while Will left the undershirt aside and cleaned the stab-wounds the best he could with the alcohol and a cloth. Then he put the gauze that Hannibal had given him on top of them, and he wrapped the bandages as tightly as he could, considering how weak he was because of his injury. When he finished, Hannibal put on the upper part of the uniform again, and then he tried to move the arm a little, testing it, but he felt another pang, so he lowered it and left it by his side._

_He looked at Will then, and he saw that he was observing him. He turned and moved closer to him, and he let his forehead fall on Will’s shoulder. He felt his cold skin, since he wasn’t wearing anything but the bandage, and he let his mind expand towards him. He felt Will’s pain hitting him and merging with his own. He felt his heartbeats, and his rapid but shallow breathing against his neck, and finally, he felt his hands on Hannibal’s back, holding him in a loose hug. He turned a little and brushed Will’s jaw with his cheek, and he embraced him too, feeling the skin of Will’s back under his fingertips, his chest against his own. He knew they had to go, as soon as possible, but he just needed a few seconds with him, holding him, feeling him. They were finally together, and so he needed that moment. But after a couple of minutes, he finally pulled back and looked at him in the eyes._

_“It’s a shame we can’t complete Buffalo Bill’s transformation…” he whispered, imagining all the possible tableaus they could’ve created for him in his mind._

_He expanded his mind towards Will and let him see them, and he smiled weakly. But they had no time, and they were in no condition of moving a body and elevate him into beauty as he usually had done with his victims before he was imprisoned._

When Hannibal helped him out of the table and he stood on his feet again, he felt the exhaustion and the pain hitting him violently even more than before. The stab-wound hadn’t stopped hurting at any moment, but the throbbing pain increased the second he tried to walk again. Hannibal sensed it and helped him to slowly get out of that room, but when he saw the stairs, he felt light-headed only to think of the effort he was going to have to make. But Hannibal helped him lean on the wall and told him to wait there. Will did so, and he waited while Hannibal disappeared again through the door in which he could see the mannequins and dresses. When he came back, he was carrying a colorful blanket, and Will knew what he meant to do. He let him wrap the blanket around his shoulders, since the shirt had ended up completely destroyed and he wasn’t wearing anything else. When Will felt the fabric over him, he felt a little better, and he gave him a faint smile as a silent thank you.

The climbing of the stairs was arduous and painful. Hannibal helped Will as much as he could, but with his own injuries and the limp on his ankle, the ascent was almost as hard for him as it was for Will. When they finally got to the kitchen, they were both breathing heavily, and Will was feeling dizzy, so he leaned on Hannibal’s right shoulder for a second. When they caught their breaths a little, he took his jacket from the counter, where he had left it before going downstairs, and then they walked through the living room and out of the house. When they finally went outside, Hannibal stepped in front of him, and he closed his eyes for a second, inhaling through his nose and exhaling a faint cloud of fog in the air, which was now much colder than when they had arrived. Will observed his features, illuminated by the orange sunset in front of them, and how the breeze swayed his loose hair over his forehead, and he smiled a little. He had felt good when he had made the decision of turning around his car and going to him, and he had felt victorious when he had slashed Buffalo Bill’s throat with Hannibal’s help… But in that moment, he felt a warm feeling creeping inside him, making him forget about the pain and the rest of the world for a second. In that moment, he knew he wasn’t going to regret his decision. In that instant, he knew that, despite the injuries and how bad he felt physically, he wanted to feel that way for the rest of his life… with Hannibal.

When he opened his eyes again, he offered Will his good arm again and they finally walked together to the car. And then, he frowned, because it hadn’t occurred to him that he would not be able to drive in his state.

“I’ll drive,” Hannibal said, guessing his thoughts.

“But your ankle,” he said, nodding towards it.

“The car’s an automatic, so I just need my right foot,” he answered, going to the passenger seat and opening the door for him.

“And your shoulder…?” Will insisted, but he went to the door Hannibal was opening.

“I’ll only use my right arm.”

Will didn’t object anymore, and he finally went into the car, putting a hand over his wound and twitching when he had to bend. He gasped once he finally was in the seat, and he wrapped the blanket tighter around himself while Hannibal circled the car and went to the driver’s seat. Despite of what he had said, Will noticed that he had some troubles getting the car started with only one arm and one foot. But once he managed it, he drove into the road, and soon the house disappeared from the side mirror.

It got dark pretty soon, and Will began feeling the adrenaline wearing off and the exhaustion taking over him. He tried to battle the drowsiness, so he fixed his gaze on Hannibal and observed the way the darkness and the dim light of the car’s dashboard hardened his features and made the blood that was smeared on his face look black. He noticed how he twitched and wrinkled his nose a little when they hit a pothole on the road, and Will guessed that it was the pain spreading from his wounds, exactly as it happened to him.

Hannibal looked at him then, and Will knew he wanted to extend his hand and touch him, but he couldn’t, since he only had one hand to drive.

“Go to sleep, my dear. You must be exhausted.”

His lips curved upwards in a sleepy smile at the name Hannibal had used, but then he felt a new wave of fatigue washing over him. He tried to think when had been the last time he had slept, and he realized it hadn’t been that long ago, since that very same morning he was waking up in the motel between Ohio and Pennsylvania, and he had been on his way to see Hannibal. But _so_ many things had happened in a single day, and everything had happened so quickly…

He still tried to resist it, to stay awake… But his eyes finally began closing, and before he was conscious about it, he slipped in a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Ok, I have good and bad news. The good news is, well. That I'm updating the fic on Thursday, and not on Friday or Saturday as I usually do (not sure if that's good news for some of you, because maybe you won't be able to read until the weekend? Buuut, anyway hahah).  
> The bad news is, next week there won't be an update. Yep, sorry, but it's going to be a busy weekend and week because of the holidays, family dinners, etc, and I'm also going to try to make the most of my holidays and probably finish the fic.  
> Which leads me to announce that there are only a few chapters left. Not sure if this is good or bad news? I'm personally super excited to finish it, but at the same time I'm so sad, I don't want it to end :_ . Anyway, if everything goes as planned, there will be 20 chapters.  
> So... There's that. And I know I've said this many times already, but just... THANKS. Thank YOU, to those who just read (hi!), to all the people who have left kudos, to the ones who have left one, a couple or comments on every chapter (!!!!), THANKS. You don't know how much I appreciate it. This fic is meaning a lot to me, and seeing that you like it makes me SO happy<333
> 
> Oh, and since I probably won't update until after New Year's eve... I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year ♥♥
> 
>  
> 
> Songs!
> 
> · [Beautiful Crime](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKSip7nZBzw), Tamer  
> · [Follow You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uplb2OtGapc), Bring me the Horizon
> 
>  
> 
> Also!! I forgot to say it in the last update, but Calime95 is translating Sensates [into Italian](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Calime95/), which is just !! I can't believe?!? I've never had any of my fics translated :_)


	18. Eighteen

When Will opened his eyes, all he saw was a ceiling. A wooden ceiling that he did not recognize at first. He wasn’t in his house, or anywhere he ever recalled waking up. But before he could look around, he remembered everything: going to Hannibal, killing Buffalo Bill together, escaping in the car… Will looked at his right side and saw that it was empty, so he got up abruptly… or at least, he tried. The second he moved, a sharp pang of pain hit him in the abdomen and it spread through his whole body. He groaned, moved the sheets away and put a hand above the dressing that was covering his wound.

He stayed very still on top on the mattress until the pain receded a little and he could breathe normally again. Then, he observed the room around him, and that time he recognized it; he was in Hannibal’s cabin, the one they had stocked only a few days ago just in case he needed to use it after escaping. But their plan in that moment had been _so_ different to what had ended up happening…

He tried to get up again, but that time he did it very slowly, resting his weight on his elbow first and then sitting up when his bare feet touched the wooden floor. That simple gesture made him dizzy, and he had to pause for a few seconds, taking deep breaths until he could open his eyes again. As soon as he moved the sheets away, he shivered a little, and he noticed for the first time that he was only wearing his boxers. He saw a pair of pants on top of the bed, so he took them and put them on as carefully as he could, trying not to bend over. After that, he stood up to finish putting the pants on, and that was actually the hardest part; he had to grab the nightstand and press a hand over his wound to get up, and it still hurt so much, Will had to lean against the wall to pause and catch his breath once he was up. And then, he finally went slowly and painfully out of the bedroom, he opened the door and stepped into the ample main room, where he had hoped to find Hannibal, maybe reading or lying down on the couch. He scanned the living room and saw that there was a fire burning inside the fireplace and other small signs of activity in the kitchen and in the table in the middle of the room… But other than that, it was empty. No Hannibal at all. Will swallowed with difficulty and rested his weight against the wall, with his legs shaking from the effort, and he felt another pang of pain.

He tried not to, but in a couple of seconds his mind filled with the possible worst scenarios of where and how Hannibal was. But he thought that he was, after all, in his safe house, and the fireplace proved that someone had been there… Will took a deep breath, and then he decided to try to reach him through the connection so he would know exactly where he was… He closed his eyes a took a deep breath, trying to take his mind off the pain so he could focus, but before he could actually do it, the front door swung open and Hannibal appeared behind it, panting and with an agitated look.

Will let out a deep breath, and he felt a shiver running down his spine, out of relief but also from the cold air that entered the room from the outside. He was, after all, wearing only a pair of pants and the bandage around his abdomen, and they were in the middle of the mountains.

“Will,” Hannibal said, a little out of breath. “Are you okay?”

He closed the door and Will noticed the twigs and small logs under his good arm, so he understood why he had been outside. He also understood then why he seemed like he had just run towards the house; he probably had felt Will’s pain through the connection, and he had returned in a hurry.

“Yeah, I am… I was worried,” he said, and Hannibal looked at him furrowing his brow. “I woke up and you weren’t here…”

“I went looking for firewood to keep the house warm.”

Will nodded, and Hannibal finally moved away from the door. He limped towards the fireplace, where he left the firewood he had collected aside, and then he took his coat off and left it on the couch, perfectly folded. And then, he walked towards him.

“So… what happened?” Will asked him, frowning a little because of the constant pain he felt. “I mean, I remember falling asleep in the car, and… nothing else.”

“There’s not much else to tell. You fell asleep, I drove us here, and I let you rest. It seemed like you really needed it.”

He tried to smile, but the pain and the fatigue made it look like a grimace. But then, something occurred to him.

“So wait, you… You carried me from the car to the bed…?” he asked, because for some reason he had pictured Hannibal carrying him in his arms, one of them severely wounded.

“I did,” Hannibal said, smiling too. “As I said, you looked like you really needed to sleep.”

“And… you also took my clothes off?”

Will looked down to the pants he had put on, which were the pajama pants he had packed in the duffel bag he had left in the cabin. He looked again at Hannibal and then it was his turn to look down for a second.

“I did,” he confessed.

“How did I not wake up…?”

“You were pretty weak from the blood loss,” he explained, and he made a pause, probably waiting in case Will wanted to say something else, but he just nodded and fell silent. “But there’s something I couldn’t do without waking you up. Let’s clean all that blood,” he suggested, pointing at him. But Will didn’t have to look, because he knew he had smears of dried blood all over his body, both from his wound, but also from Hannibal and Buffalo Bill.

He guessed then that Hannibal probably hadn’t slept at all, because he apparently had had time to drive them to the cabin, clean himself from the blood, change into some of the clothes that they had bought for him, and pick up firewood twice. All that with his wounds, the exhaustion of the fight and not having rested anything. Will wondered once again if Hannibal was even human, but he just smiled tiredly and let him help him go back to the bedroom and into the bathroom. Will sat on top of the toilet lid while Hannibal filled the sink with warm water. Then, he took a couple of towels and sat beside him on a little stool that he took from under the sink. He soaked the towels in the water and wringed them out, and then he leaned closer and started cleaning the blood from his skin. Will stood still while he wiped his shoulders and neck with the towel, and then he carefully cleaned his face. It was something maybe he could’ve done himself, but he let him do it. It was incredibly comforting, and he closed his eyes while he felt the warm towel against his skin, wiping away their blood, forgetting for a moment about the pain.

When Hannibal paused for a few seconds, he opened his eyes and saw him getting up to change the towel, which was completely red now. But he didn’t come back only with a new towel; he also took a first-aid kit from the bathroom’s cabinet, and he left it on the edge of the sink. When he sat on the stool again, he started touching Will’s dressing, and he understood what he wanted to do, so he helped him take the bandage off, since Hannibal was doing everything with only his good hand. When they took it off, Hannibal dampened the gauze and then removed it carefully from the wound, but that didn’t prevent Will from feeling an intense pain when the fabric pulled from the skin and the stitches. Will grabbed the edge of the sink while he leaned his head against the cold tiles, inhaling in short breaths. When Hannibal finally removed it, he looked at him blinking away a couple of tears from the pain, and Hannibal gave him an apologetic look, so Will nodded to let him know that it was okay.

Hannibal then wiped away the rest of the blood from his stomach around the wound. He had cleaned him the previous day before stitching him up, but it had been a quick and messy job, so it was only natural that he still had some left. After that Hannibal cleaned him again with alcohol, which was as painful as he remembered from the day before, and then checked the stitches and told him that they seemed okay, so he just took a new gauze and bandage from the kit and put a new dressing on him. Then, he took a third towel and took Will’s hands with his. He hadn’t noticed until that moment, but his hands were sore, bruised and covered in more blood from when he had punched Buffalo Bill. The pain from the wound in his stomach took all his attention, but the moment Hannibal started dabbing him with the towel to clean the blood, he became fully aware of the pain in his knuckles too. He clenched his jaw, grabbed Hannibal’s hand with his and focused on his features to try to distract himself from it, and he ended up losing himself in him, as he always did.

“You know, when…When I thought we could continue living apart…” he started saying, almost whispering, and Hannibal met his gaze, stopping with the towel in his hand. “I thought that maybe we would have to have an unspoken pact to ignore the worst in one another… in order to continue enjoying the best.”

Hannibal grazed the back of his hands with his thumb, and he tilted his head a little.

“I don’t want to ignore any part of you, Will.”

“I know,” he said, and he smiled a little. “And now I know that I don’t want to ignore any part, either. Not even the worst ones.”

“The worst parts in me, or the worst parts in you…?”

“Neither.”

His smile grew wider, and Hannibal did too, looking down for a moment. Will had almost convinced himself that he would be able to live apart from Hannibal, but it had only been an attempt at fooling himself once again. Even if things hadn’t turned out like they had, even if they hadn’t killed Buffalo Bill together, even if their initial plan of Hannibal escaping in some other moment and then reuniting in the cabin had succeeded… Even then, Will now knew that he wouldn’t have been able to keep away from him. The moment he would’ve had Hannibal right beside him, without any glass or bars between them, he would’ve known that he wanted and needed him, more than he had been able to admit.

Hannibal finished cleaning his hands, and then he bandaged his right hand too, which was the one that had ended up worse. When he finished, he put everything away, but Will stopped him when he was about to stand up, and he grabbed the green sweater he was wearing.

“Your wounds,” he told him, more serious.

The day before Hannibal had told him to only bandage him, even though he had been stabbed twice by Gumb, and he already had another wound from the failed shot of the police officer. Will hadn’t insisted, since he didn’t think he would’ve been able to do much in his condition, anyway. He wasn’t much better in that moment, but at least he could try if Hannibal needed him to.

“I stitched myself the arm wound,” he said, taking his sweater off when Will released him.

He showed him the stitches on his right arm, and then Will turned to his left shoulder, which had a new dressing.

“What about these?” he asked him, since he knew he couldn’t have possibly stitched those wounds by himself.

“I’ll survive without stitches, Will, don’t worry. They’re not as deep as your wound,” he told him, and smiled again as if to reassure him.

He frowned a little, but then he thought that Hannibal was a doctor, and much more importantly, a survivor. If he thought he needed stitches, he would let Will at least try.

“Well… are you hungry, my dear?” he asked him then.

Will smiled again, but he lowered his gaze, a little embarrassed.

“That’s so weird.”

“What is?” Hannibal asked, tilting his head.

“You keep calling me that…”

“Does it bother you?”

Will shook his head, looking at him again.

“No, it doesn’t bother me. It’s just… strange.”

“Is it strange because you’re a man…?”

“No. Yes- Well… I mean, not only because of that,” he said, and Hannibal raised his eyebrows, amused by his confusion.

“Then what is it?”

“Well, it’s just… You know, it’s what couples say to each other,” he said, and Hannibal just kept looking at him, waiting for him to continue talking. “I just… I never had a relationship that lasted long enough to reach that point. Never saw myself in one… before.”

Hannibal kept looking at him, probably not knowing what to say. Because what Will had just told him was not only that he hadn’t been in a real relationship with someone, but also that he was starting to think about him and Hannibal as one.

When he couldn’t bear the silence anymore, Will cleared his throat, sat up a little and touched Hannibal’s wrist lightly.

“Answering your question… I _am_ very hungry,” Will said, recovering his tired smile.

Hannibal put on the sweater with difficulty because of the shoulder, and he finally stood up and cleaned up the dirty towels and things they had used. Then, he helped Will get up, and they went to the bedroom. Hannibal opened the wardrobe and gave him a sweater from his duffel bag, and once he put it on, he felt much better. After that, they went together to the living room, and Hannibal made him sit at the table and started setting everything. Will would’ve offered him his help, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stand for a long time, so he just observed him while he limped from the table to the kitchen. After a while, he finally put on the table two bowls of the canned, hot soup they had bought. It wasn’t, of course, _any_ canned soup; Hannibal had insisted on buying only gourmet canned food, which had cost more than double of what they could’ve spent on normal canned food.

Instead of sitting in front of him, as he usually did, Hannibal sat in the chair beside him. Hannibal helped him sit up in his chair, and then he observed him while Will took the spoon with unsteady hands and leaned forwards. They ate in silence, except for the few times that Will couldn’t stop a quiet groan from coming out of his throat, since every single move he did made his wound hurt, no matter how carefully he moved. Will saw Hannibal out of the corner of his eye looking at him every single time he felt a pang of pain, and he sensed how tense he was every time he did.

When they finished, Hannibal took everything to the kitchen and he came back with a glass of water and a bottle of pills. Will had forgotten that they _had_ bought some medicines just in case Hannibal needed them after escaping, and he thanked their past selves when he saw the painkillers in Hannibal’s hand.

“You’re going to take one of these,” Hannibal said, putting what he guessed was an antibiotic in his hand, and then opening the bottle of painkillers, “and two of these at least for a week or two, then we’ll see how you’re doing. They’re stronger that the ones you used to take, so they will probably make you dizzy and drowsy.”

But before he had ended up warning him about the pills, Will had already taken all of them, and he swallowed them with the water. He left the glass back on the table, and he observed Hannibal taking only one of each, and he wondered if it was because he considered that he wasn’t feeling as much pain as Will was, or because he wanted to stay clearheaded. Knowing him, Will figured that it would probably be the second one. And then that last thought made him remember something he had wanted to ask him since the day before, so he looked down when Hannibal turned to him after taking the pills.

“When we were fighting Gumb, and he came at us with the knife… You put yourself in front of him because of me,” he said, and he made a pause, but when Hannibal didn’t say anything else, he raised his gaze again. Hannibal was just looking at him, so he kept talking. “If Gumb had stabbed you a little higher, or a little to the side… You could’ve died, Hannibal.”

“No greater love hath man than to lay down his life for a friend.”

“I’m serious,” he told him, a little irritated because of how unaltered he was.

“Me too.”

Will looked at him for a couple of seconds, and then he felt the slight anger he had felt disappearing as quickly as it had emerged.

“So you would’ve died for me, just like that?”

“If the situation had required it, of course,” he said, tilting his head as if he didn’t understand why he was asking him that.

Will felt his stomach flipping, and for the first time since he had waken up, it wasn’t because of the pain. He knew how Hannibal felt about him, but he also knew who Hannibal Lecter was. He had survived his entire life, no matter who was after him, no matter how many times he had been in danger… He had survived, always. And hearing him say that he would have died for him, made his throat tighten.

“I don’t want you to die, Hannibal. I don’t want… I _can’t_ lose you. God only knows where I’d be without you,” he said, and he didn’t mean only to the day before, but to everything, every single moment he had lived since Hannibal had burst in his life.

Hannibal then smiled. He was sitting sideways in the chair, but he moved it closer to him, and put his good hand on the back of Will’s chair. He could almost feel his fingers grazing his skin and he longed for his touch, but it didn’t come.

“We both could’ve died yesterday, but we didn’t. We survived.”

“We did… And we will.”

Will smiled too, because he was right. He had been close, too close to dying there, but he had survived. They both had.

He moved a little to face him, and then he grabbed Hannibal’s sweater and pulled him closer, but he didn’t have to make a great effort, because the man leaned towards him. Will raised a hand and ran his thumb across Hannibal’s cheek. Without the blood that had covered his face the day before, he could see now the wounds he had in his face, most of them probably from the van accident: a small cut in the corner of his mouth, a couple of superficial scratches on his cheek, and then a deeper cut on his cheekbone, where he had put a small butterfly strip. He moved his thumb to that last cut and he drew a circle around it, wondering if it would leave a scar once it healed. Will finally closed his eyes, letting his forehead fall against Hannibal’s, and he fit his nose beside his, feeling their breaths merging in the space between them.

“The world is going to be a much more dangerous place with us together in it…” he whispered against his skin.

He pulled back a little to be able to look at him, and he saw that he was still smiling.

“And much more interesting.”

Will finally leaned in and kissed him, moving his lips slowly against Hannibal’s. And while they kissed, he felt dizzy, as if there was no chair, nothing beneath him that held him except for his lips and the hand Hannibal had put on the back of his neck, sliding his fingers among his hair. When he moved back to breathe, the wound reminded him of his presence by sending a new wave of pain from his stomach, and he fisted Hannibal’s sweater. Hannibal moved his hands from Will’s nape to his jaw, where he cupped his face.

“I think it’s time to go to bed, you have to rest.”

Will nodded a little, but neither of them moved at first; they just stayed still, looking into each other’s eyes for a few seconds.

When Hannibal finally moved, he helped Will stand up, and then they both staggered towards the bedroom. But when he faced the bed, a thought crossed his mind; with his wound, the only position in which he could lie down would be on his back, but Hannibal’s wounds were on the back of his left shoulder, so he would have to lie down on his stomach or his right side. So when Hannibal started guiding him to the left side of the bed, where Will usually slept, he stopped him and went to the opposite side. Hannibal didn’t ask him why, he just helped him sit on the mattress and then lie down, which required a huge effort for such an insignificant gesture. Will sighed and closed his eyes when his head touched the pillow, feeling his muscles finally relaxing. He felt Hannibal covering him with the duvet, and then he listened to his steps while he circled the bed and got under the sheets at his left side. And then, Will gathered the strength he had left to open his eyes and spread his left arm. Hannibal looked at him, but Will knew he had understood the gesture, so he didn’t say anything. After a second of hesitation, Hannibal moved closer to him, rested his head on Will’s shoulder and put his injured arm over his chest, careful of not touching him anywhere near the wound on his stomach. Will tried to be as careful as he could too when he wrapped his back with his arm, and then he let his head fall against Hannibal’s, feeling his hair against his cheek. He felt Hannibal relaxing against him, wrapping his arm around his side and moving his head a little, resting his cheek right above his heart. He was too tired and sleepy to fight against the drowsiness that had seized him, but right before falling asleep, he suddenly realized something: that would be the first time that they were physically sleeping in the same bed, together. And that would be the first time neither of them would wake up alone without the other.

****

Will spent most of the following days sleeping. He would only wake up from time to time, and he soon was unable to tell how long had it been since the last time he had opened his eyes, or how long had they been in the cabin. Every time he would wake up, he found Hannibal around; sometimes he would be sleeping too, lying next to him, hugging him, their legs tangled; other times Will would open his eyes and see him reading or drawing under the dim lamp light. But normally, he would wake up not on his own, but with Hannibal softly shaking his shoulder or squeezing his arm a little. He then would help him go to the living room to eat and take their pills again, or he would walk him to the bathroom to change his dressing and see how the wound was going. But during those days, they didn’t speak or do much else, and Will didn’t have the strength to do anything else anyway.

One day, after eating what he had guessed it had to be either a late breakfast or an early lunch based on the beams of sunlight that filtered through the half-closed blinds, he decided that he needed to take a shower, so he told Hannibal. He said that a shower was not an option, since he had to keep the wound dry for a while longer, but he still helped him go to the bathroom, and Will sat on the toilet lid while Hannibal looked for a couple of washbowls. He filled one with warm water and soap and the other only with water, and then he gave him a new sponge and a couple of clean towels.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you…?”

Will thought for a second about letting Hannibal not only seeing him naked, but give him a sponge bath, and he felt himself blushing. He didn’t trust in his voice in that moment, so he just shook his head. Hannibal nodded, and then he went out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Will then started getting undressed in slow movements to avoid hurting himself. When he finally felt the warm water in the sponge touching his skin, he felt a shiver, but when he was clean and put on the fresh clothes he had taken before going in, he felt immensely relieved.

When he opened the bathroom door, he saw Hannibal sitting in the bedroom’s armchair, waiting for him. He stood up and went straight towards him to help him as always. But when he wrapped an arm around his waist, as he usually did, Will felt Hannibal getting closer than usual, and then he almost tucked his nose on the curve of Will’s neck, under his ear, and he inhaled through his nose. Will’s breath got stuck on his throat, and he had to hold on to Hannibal’s arm. When he moved backwards, Will looked at him and shook his head when he saw the little smile on his lips.

“Lovely,” he said, and Will rolled his eyes, although he ended up smiling too.

After that, the days kept going by. Sometimes Will would try to spend a little more time awake, but the wound and the pills made it pretty difficult, so he kept sleeping through most of the day.

And then, one day he woke up and Hannibal wasn’t next to him. He stood still for a second, pricking up his ears in case he was in the bathroom, but all he could hear was a faint, muffled voice coming from the living room, and he frowned. So he got out of the bed and went there, where he found Hannibal sitting in the couch that faced the fireplace; the living room area was arranged around the fireplace, the couch and the two armchairs pointing at it, making a sort of half circle.

Will went to him, and when he went around the couch, he saw the source of the voice he had heard: it was a small radio that Hannibal had on his lap. They hadn’t bought that when they had stocked the house, so Will figured he already had it in the house. Hannibal smiled at him when he saw him, and Will sat with slow movements besides him. The wound hurt him much less than the first days, either because the pills kept the pain contained, or because it was healing. But some small movements were still a huge bother. But once he sat, he let his head fall between the couch’s cushion and Hannibal’s right shoulder, and then he started paying attention at what the voice in the radio was saying. At first he didn’t know what it was talking about, since he didn’t have the context, but then he understood.

“That’s about us, isn’t it?” he asked him without raising his head to look at him.

“Yes.”

He felt really weird for a moment listening to the man on the radio talking about what had happened. In the time they had spend there inside the house, he hadn’t thought about the outside as the real world; it was like time had frozen and nothing had happened ever since they had left Buffalo Bill’s house.

“What are they saying?” he finally asked, curious now that he knew they were talking about them.

“Well… The FBI is still investigating everything, and they haven’t reached a conclusion yet.”

“Which means they probably have, but they don’t want to make it public,” he said, because he knew well how they worked.

“In this case it might be true that they still don’t know. And since the FBI is making public one detail at a time, the press have their own theories on what happened.”

That _did_ make Will raise his head from Hannibal’s shoulder, so he sat up.

“Theories?” he asked, interested.

Will had assumed they would somehow know exactly what had happened. After all, he hadn’t bothered in covering his tracks since he had decided to go to Hannibal, and it wasn’t like they had been exactly subtle. But maybe they didn’t want to _believe_ what the evidences suggested.

“Oh, yes,” Hannibal said, smiling a little, and he turned the radio off before continuing speaking, since Will was visibly interested. “There are three that I’m actually enjoying very much. The first one says that you suspected that I was withholding information about Buffalo Bill, so you had a hunch and went to ask me. You obviously found that I had escaped, so you _made_ me tell you where Buffalo Bill was, and you took me with you there…” he made a pause, in which his smile grew wider. “The truth is, this one has a few plot holes, but it’s entertaining anyway. Once we were there, apparently things got out of your control and either Buffalo Bill and me teamed up against you, or the three of us went every man for himself on each other,” he said, tilting his head, and Will smiled at the way he was telling the story, amused. “But the ending is my favorite part, because they don’t seem to agree with each other. Some say that you died right there and I took your body, probably for culinary reasons… And others say that you actually went out of the house alive, but I took you anyway and probably have killed you or I’m planning on doing it very soon.”

Will nodded, imagining the scenario. It was true that it had some plot holes, but the ending was actually the story the FBI would want to tell themselves. Will being kidnapped or killed by Hannibal was much less bad press for them than the actual truth.

“The other theory says that I somehow washed your brain in the visits you paid me- which by the way, is something the FBI has made public now… So that’s why you went to find me, and then _I_ took you to kill Buffalo Bill. This one is rather incomplete, to be honest.”

“What about the third theory?” Will asked, remembering he had said there were three theories he was enjoying.

“Oh, my favorite one. But I’m not sure you’re going to like it very much.”

“Why not?” Will asked, containing a chuckle.

“Because it comes from our friend at Tattlecrime.”

Will wrinkled his nose at the mention.

“And what is _Miss Lounds_ saying? Let me guess, that I was such a serial killers fanboy that I became one…?”

“Actually… she’s calling us ‘murder husbands’.”

“Murder _what_?” he asked, almost choking with his own saliva.

Hannibal’s smile grew wider, showing his teeth, and Will hit him lightly on his arm, so he kept talking.

“Murder husbands,” he repeated, and Will confirmed that he hadn’t heard wrong. “She says that we probably planned everything together. That you helped me escape somehow, and then we went to kill Buffalo Bill.”

Will fell silent while he observed the flames dancing around the small logs that were burning inside the fireplace. It was a little disturbing that she had gotten the story so right when she had so little information about them and their connection.

“Don’t worry, because nobody is taking that theory seriously. They have the tapes from our encounters, and the guard you knocked down doesn’t remember what happened to him. He believes _I_ knocked him down… Maybe with my powerful glance,” he said, changing the tone so he would know he was joking.

Will smiled a little, but then he remembered something, and he looked at the now silent radio in Hannibal’s hands.

“That’s what you wanted them to think, right…?” he asked, but then he shook his head. “I mean, not the… murder husbands thing. You wanted them to doubt, and you wanted them to think you could’ve killed or kidnapped me… didn’t you?” Will looked at him, and he saw that he was right, but he kept talking anyway. “There was enough blood for them to think that I could’ve died, and you let Catherine Martin see me bleeding on the floor. You never do anything without a specific purpose, and if you hadn’t wanted her to see me, you would’ve taken me to another room first.”

Hannibal then smiled again, and he left the radio on the little table beside the couch’s armrest before turning his body to him, so he was almost facing him.

“I wanted them to doubt, yes. Just in case,” he admitted.

“In case of… what?”

“In case you needed to go back. In case you needed them to believe a story. A story of how I was interested in you, so I did kidnap you after I killed Buffalo Bill; they have my call to the FBI offices, the tapes… they _know_ I was somewhat interested in you. And a story of how then you escaped from... The Chesapeake Ripper…”

Will nodded, pretending to be impressed, and he imitated his posture, so he put his left knee on top of the couch to be able to turn his body without hurting himself.

“You certainly planned everything…” he said, and Hannibal looked down, running his index finger through the stubble in his jaw. “But you forgot a little detail. I’m not coming back, Hannibal.”

He raised his gaze to look at him, and when he smiled again his eyes gleamed and Will’s heart skipped a beat at how happy he looked in that moment.

“Good,” he said.

They looked at each other until Will was the one who had to look down, but Hannibal extended his hand and took Will’s with his, grazing his palm with his thumb. Will closed his eyes and let his head fall again on his good shoulder, giving in to the comforting touch.

After a while, Will remembered something he had been wondering, so he looked at him again.

“Where do you think the dogs will be?”

“Alana and Abigail are probably taking care of them. She already did while you were in the hospital,” Hannibal told him, and Will nodded.

“Yeah, I think so, too… I miss them, though,” he said in a whisper, not being able to help it.

“Me too.”

Will hadn’t been entirely sure if Hannibal’s fondness for the dogs had been just a result of the connection, but he sensed then that he was being honest: he _truly_ missed the dogs, almost as much as Will did, so he smiled, a warm feeling spreading in his chest.

Since it was still early for having lunch, Hannibal decided to change Will’s dressing. He took everything from the bathroom to the living room, and Will took his sweater off while Hannibal started taking the things they were going to use from the first-aid kit. Then, Hannibal knelt on the rug and he made Will sit at the edge of the couch. He had had him knelt before him a few times already, since it was the easiest way for him to change his dressing, and it was the exact same position in which he had shaved him before Buffalo Bill. And still, when he felt Hannibal’s sides against his thighs and his hands grazing his skin while he took the bandage off, he jerked a little. He didn’t bother to close his mind to him, so Hannibal raised his gaze with a little smile, and probably to push him a little, when he started unrolling the bandage, he leaned forwards, as if he couldn’t take it through his back if he hadn’t moved closer. But his sly smile made it clear that he wasn’t trying to disguise his intentions, so Will decided to play along. He also leaned a little forwards, until their faces were almost too close, and he put his hands on Hannibal’s biceps, exactly like he had done when he had bandaged him the first time. But that time, instead of being simply a natural gesture, he slowly spread the fingers away from one another, squeezing a little and feeling Hannibal’s muscles tensing with his movements while he took the dressing off. They stayed facing each other, Will’s breathing growing shallow since he didn’t want to move a muscle, until Hannibal couldn’t prolong it any longer, and he left the bandage aside. Will smiled, but then he had to lean backwards so Hannibal could remove the gauze and take a look at the wound.

“It’s healing really well. I think we can stop taking the antibiotics, and you can reduce the painkillers’ dose, one pill will probably do.”

“And I won’t feel as exhausted as I do now?” he asked him, looking at the long cut on his stomach. It was already closed, but it was swollen and red.

“Yes. If you start feeling too much pain, you can always take another.”

Will nodded, and then Hannibal took the clean gauze and bandages and put him the new dressing on. When he finished, Hannibal sat on the couch and started taking another bandage for himself from the first-aid kit, but Will put his hand on top of his.

“Let me…”

Up until that moment, Hannibal had been changing his own bandages by himself, since Will was either too exhausted to offer him his help, or he had already done it when he woke up. But he was feeling better now, and he wanted to do that for him.

Hannibal nodded and passed him the kit. Will first helped Hannibal take his sweater off, and then he started taking the bandage off, which was around his shoulder and his chest, so it held in the place. Once he took it off, Hannibal turned with his back towards him, and Will moved closer to him, and he was able to observe well the wounds for the first time. The bruise from the dislocated shoulder had now a yellowish color, which was probably what made the stab-wounds look a lot more intimidating. One of them was close to his armpit, and the other was higher and closer to the center of his back, which made Will shudder a little, seeing vividly in his mind the path Gumb would’ve followed if he had continued stabbing Hannibal: his neck. Will put his hand between Hannibal’s shoulder blades, and he jerked a little with the contact.

“Sorry, my hands are cold,” he said, starting to move his hand away.

“No, I… I don’t mind. At all,” Hannibal said, turning his head to look at him over his shoulder.

Will smiled a little, and then he closed his eyes, expanded his mind towards him and trailed Hannibal’s back with his fingers. He felt Hannibal’s shiver, and his heart starting to beat faster. He felt how he arched his back a little under his touch, and then he heard him gasp a little, and that was more than Will could handle. He felt the sudden arousal hitting him and he let himself fall against Hannibal, resting his forehead against the curve of his neck. Will embraced him from behind, and he let his lips graze the nape of his neck, breathing against his skin.

Hannibal then moved, turning around as much as his position allowed him, and Will searched for his lips, kissing him hungrily. He wouldn’t have been able to explain where Hannibal’s hands were and where were his own, but since Hannibal was with his back towards him, he put a hand on his jaw, pulling him closer as he felt his tongue slither inside Will’s mouth. He heard himself moaning against his lips, and then he moved his hands from his neck to Hannibal’s shoulder, where he pushed him against the cushions… and then Hannibal groaned, and Will realized what he had just done. He moved back, breaking the contact and looking at Hannibal’s injured shoulder, which he had just shoved against the couch.

“Oh god, sorry,” he said, feeling his face burning.

But Hannibal smiled broadly despite the pain, and he calmly moved away from the cushions as if Will hadn’t done anything wrong.

“It’s okay, Will,” Hannibal said, putting his hand on top of his while they both caught their breath.

Will tried to smile too, but he looked down, embarrassed. He couldn’t believe he had just ruined a moment like that in such a clumsy way.

“Will,” Hannibal called him, so he had to look up.

Hannibal knew, of course, what he was feeling, so he took Will’s hand to his lips, and he softly kissed his still scarred knuckles. When he looked at him again, Will was much more calmed, and he knew it had been Hannibal and the connection, so he thanked him with a look.

Hannibal turned around again, and Will put the new bandage on around both the chest and the shoulder, like the previous one. He also changed the simple bandage of the wound on his right arm, and when he finished he left everything inside the first-aid kit.

“Do you feel like taking a short walk?”

Will left the kit on the other side of the couch, and when he turned around, Hannibal was putting on his sweater, so he moved closer to him and helped him with his wounded arm.

“Yes, please,” he told him, letting out a long breath. “I don’t know how many days have passed, but I feel like I’ve been hibernating for months.”

Hannibal smiled at him while he ran a hand through his hair, since the sweater had disheveled it.

“It’s been two weeks,” he said, answering the question he hadn’t asked, and Will nodded.

Will also got dressed while the other took everything they had used to the bathroom, and when he came back, he had the two jackets they had bought for him in his hands. Hannibal gave the dark one to him, and Will saw that it was too big for him. He thought that he probably looked terrible in it, not that it was a priority for him to look good. But when he raised his gaze, he saw that Hannibal was smiling at him. He went to him after putting the other jacket on, took the two lapels of Will’s jacket and he zipped it for him, and when he looked at him again, Will had to control himself not kiss him again. It had been such a small gesture, but still he had the power to make his heart skip a beat with the smallest things. But he of course had sensed it, so he gave him a wolfish smile before letting the zipper go and extending a hand towards the door.

When they went out of the house, he blinked at the excessive daylight, and he hugged himself, because he felt a shiver despite the jacket.

“We don’t have to go out now, if you want to go back…”

“No, no. I’m okay,” he said, turning to Hannibal, who was still with the hand on the doorknob. “Really.”

He nodded, and finally closed the door and pocketed the keys in his jacket.

Since they were both still injured, they didn’t go very far. Hannibal’s ankle was much better and he barely limped now, but Will knew it still hurt him a little sometimes, and Will’s wound made him take every step cautiously. They walked through the woods, among the trees and plants of radiant colors thanks to the spring; Will wasn’t sure of the exact date, but he knew it had to be almost the end of March. When both Will and Hannibal’s wounds started bothering them, they picked up some firewood and went back to the house. Will went straight to the fireplace, where he left the small logs aside, and then he put his hands in front of the fire, trying to warm up. Hannibal went to him and asked him for his jacket without words, and then he went to the bedroom to put them back on the wardrobe. When he returned, he started preparing lunch, and that time Will had the energy to help him out a little in the kitchen, even though the food they had came almost exclusively in cans and it didn’t require a lot of preparation.

After eating lunch, since he had only taken one pill as Hannibal had told him to, he didn’t feel as tired as he usually felt, but he decided to take a short nap on the couch. When he woke up, the first thing he saw was Hannibal, sitting next to him in one of the two armchairs. Will observed him for a bit without moving while he drew something on his sketchpad. When Hannibal tilted his head and pursed his lips a little, concentrated on the drawing, he smiled. And in that moment, Hannibal raised his head, catching him.

“You’re awake,” he said, leaving the pencil on top of the sketchpad.

“What are you drawing?” Will asked him with curiosity, sitting up a little on the couch, resting his back against the armrest, where he had had his head until a moment before.

“You.”

Will turned to him again, and in his new position he could actually see the sketchpad, and he saw that it was indeed him. Hannibal was very talented for that too, as with almost everything he did, so he tilted his head and saw that he had been drawing him while he was asleep, and he couldn’t stop a smile from appearing on his lips.

“Why do you keep drawing me…?” he asked him.

It wasn’t the first time he had done it. Hannibal had drawn him since he had thought he was a hallucination, and he had seen some drawings in his room in Baltimore that he was sure it was him, although he had never asked him about them.

Hannibal shrugged a little, not losing his smile.

“I like drawing beautiful things.”

Will felt himself blushing, but he shook his head, trying to conceal it.

“A lot of people would disagree with that… And besides, looks are an accident, Hannibal.”

He stood up from the armchair, leaving the sketchpad there, and he sat on the couch, beside him. He put a hand on the cushions, and the other right next to him on the armrest, enclosing him in a sort of circle. Then, he leaned towards him and Will felt his heart hammering on his chest, but Hannibal put his cheek against his, and he whispered into his ear.

“I will eat anyone who says you’re not beautiful.”

Will gave him a light shove, snorting and pretending to be annoyed, but Hannibal didn’t lose his smile.

“Or maybe you could accept a compliment. I think you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Will.”

He felt his face burning again, and his heart trying to climb out of his throat, so he lowered his gaze and cleared his throat before trying to speak again.

“You sure about that? What about _any_ work of art you have seen?” Will asked, trying to joke a little, not believing entirely what he was saying.

“Including every single work of art I’ve ever seen and every piece of music I’ve ever listened to.”

Will fell silent, because he couldn’t find a single word to say. Hannibal put his index under Will’s chin and made him look at him. Will let his mind expand towards him, and he felt Hannibal’s emotions merging with his own, and he gasped a little. But then Hannibal leaned towards him again, that time he kissed him, so delicately that Will didn’t even react for a couple of seconds. When he did, he searched for Hannibal’s sides with his hands, and he pulled him closer carefully not to hurt him or himself again. When Hannibal moved backwards, Will wondered once again how Hannibal’s love could be something real. It was as intense as the sunlight, and all of it was entirely for Will.

“Do you feel like having a tea?” Hannibal asked him, caressing his leg for a second.

Will smiled a little and nodded, still unable to speak.

****

A few days later, after checking on his wound, Hannibal told him he could start having showers as long as he was careful. Will almost cried out of relief, because as good as he had felt after that first sponge bath, he had stopped enjoying them too quickly. So that very same afternoon, Hannibal didn’t put him the bandage on, and he went to the shower stripping on the way. But when he felt the hot water falling against his skin, he couldn’t stop a sigh. He had never known he could miss something like a shower _that_ much until that moment…

He stayed in there longer that he would’ve been under normal circumstances, and he only went out because he remembered that they were supposed to save as much water and electricity as they could… and maybe also because his fingers were wrinkling. When he went out, he realized that most of his clothes were dirty or drying from the load they had put on the washing machine that very same morning, so he took one of Hannibal’s t-shirts and the only clean sweater he had, and he went out of the bedroom putting it on. But when he took his head out of the neck of the sweater, he suddenly froze in the middle of the living room. Most of the lights were turned off, with the exception of a lamp, the fireplace and dozens of candles that were spread out throughout the entire living room. But most of them were on the long table where they ate, which was already set and even decorated with flowers. Will then looked at Hannibal, who was standing beside the table with his hands interlaced in front of him and a wide smile on his lips.

“Wow, what… is this?”

Will realized in that moment that Hannibal was also wearing the only suit they had bought for him when they had gone shopping, and he finished putting on his sweater feeling a little ridiculous wearing his pajama pants.

“It’s a date.”

Hannibal’s smile stretched even more, and then he went to the chair Will had gotten used to sit in, and he moved it away, offering it to him. Will went towards him and sat, Hannibal pushing the chair under him. He tried not to, but a smile appeared on his lips.

“A… date?” he asked.

“Yes. When we met, we just barged into each other’s lives, and everything has been quite hectic ever since, so we never had one.”

“Yeah, I’m aware…”

Hannibal circled the table and Will followed him with his gaze, unable to believe the situation. And when he came back from the kitchen and started putting several plates of steaming food on the table that looked incredibly good, he shook his head.

“Of course, if someone could make canned food look this good, it’s you,” Will said, smiling but feeling nervous.

Hannibal smiled too, and then he made another trip to the kitchen and came back with a bottle of wine that he started opening.

“I thought we couldn’t drink any alcohol with the pills,” he told him, pointing at the bottle.

“If you’re not feeling too much pain, I thought we could skip it tonight,” Hannibal said, opening the bottle and smelling the cork. Then, he looked at him, asking him with a look if he wanted or not.

“Sure. I won’t tell the Doctor,” he joked.

Once he had served the wine, he finally sat right in front of him, and he took his glass, raising it.

“A toast?”

“Sure. What for?” Will asked, raising his glass too.

“To us,” Hannibal said, almost in a whisper.

“To us.”

They both took a sip, not taking their eyes off of each other, and Will felt his heart beating quickly inside him. When he left the glass, he had to look down for a second while Hannibal started serving the food.

“Are you trying to seduce me, _Dr._ Lecter?” Will asked him, raising his eyebrows.

“That depends…” he answered.

“On what?”

“Whether it’s working or not.”

Will chuckled at his answer, and then he let him serve the food. When they started eating, Will wondered once again how could he have made such an elaborated dinner with only the canned food they had bought.

“So… is this what a normal date with Hannibal Lecter would’ve looked like?” he asked then, taking a bite from the meal.

“Probably with much less canned food, but yes. It’s an approximation.”

“Less canned food, more surprise ingredients,” Will said.

“Exactly.”  


Hannibal smiled again, taking another sip from the wine, and then something occurred to Will.

“Do you ever think what would’ve been like if we had met under normal circumstances?”

“You mean without the connection?” Hannibal asked him.

“Yes… And with you outside the Hospital.”

Hannibal took another bite from the meal while he seemed to think consider his answer, and then he shrugged a little.

“It’s hard to know… Maybe I would’ve tried to kill you,” he said, and even though he didn’t smile, Will knew he was joking, so he rolled his eyes. “Or maybe I would’ve tried to kiss you…”

Will snorted, partly amused, and partly because suddenly he had imagined the situation in his head.

“Yeah, I have a hard time imagining that…”

“And why is that?” Hannibal asked, and he furrowed his brow a little.

“Well, let’s see… Before they caught you, you were a respected psychiatrist, you were always throwing these big, fancy parties, wearing suits that cost more than my yearly salary, going to the opera…” he said, remembering the things he had known about him before, but also the things he had discovered about him since he had met him. “I don’t see how we could’ve met, and if we had, how you could’ve had… You know. Any interest in me at all.”

Hannibal tilted his head, and then he pointed the fork at him.

“As you said, I was a respected psychiatrist, maybe we would’ve met through my job. Sometimes the FBI asked for my help with some agents.”

Will frowned, because he hadn’t known that. But considering who Hannibal had ended up being, it was natural that the FBI had hidden that little detail.

“Ok, so maybe we would’ve met like that. I still wouldn’t see you having any interest in me,” Will said, shaking his head and looking at his plate.

“In this other _world_ , you are still you and I am still me…?” he asked him then, still playing that little game that Will had started without meaning to.

“Yes, I guess.”

“Then… I _would_ have been interested in you, Will,” he said, serious.

“I think you would’ve tried to eat me.”

Hannibal chuckled a little, but he shook his head and swallowed the food he had in his mouth before speaking again.

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Why not? I mean, I know that sometimes I can be a bit rude, and… What was it that you said? ‘Whenever feasible…?’”

“I think I would’ve been more interested in _you_ , not in your rudeness. Your empathy, your mind is something that astonished me since I met you. I’m sure I would’ve been equally interested, whatever the situation, I would’ve wanted to know what you would do, how you would evolve.”

Will held his gaze for a few seconds, remembering the times Hannibal had talked about his empathy as a _gift_ , and Will hadn’t known that his interest was genuine back when he had thought he was a hallucination.

“Now that I think about it, I would’ve probably used some drugs if you also had had the encephalitis when we had met in this other situation. I actually thought about it when we met, but obviously I was in no position of doing anything like that,” he said, and then he smiled.

“Now, _that_ does sound like you,” Will said, shaking his head again.

“In any case… I think we would’ve found a way in any situation. The place would’ve been made for us, one way or another.”

“You mean… like it was fate?”

“We can’t know, but… perhaps. Maybe we were destined to meet each other under any circumstance and that’s why the connection was established.”

Will took a deep breath, trying to take in Hannibal’s words, and then he looked at him raising his eyebrows.

“Maybe.”

They both smiled at the same time, and then they returned to their meal. When they finished dinner, they moved to the living room area, and Hannibal took the bottle of whisky they had bought but hadn’t even opened yet. He filled Will’s and his own glass by the fireplace, and then they took sip at the same time. Will closed his eyes, having missed the taste, and when he opened them again, he saw that Hannibal was observing him, the reflection of the fire in his eyes making his look seem even more intense. Will had the sudden urge of kissing him, of touching him and feeling him, but he looked down instead and walked to the couch, where he sat with his heart drumming on his ears. He wanted Hannibal so much, but he still felt _so_ nervous every time he thought about going a little further than the kisses and touches they had already shared…

Hannibal sat beside him, and he took a sip from his whisky, closing his mind just a little so he wouldn’t know _everything_ he was feeling.

“Will, can I ask you something?” Hannibal asked him, and he turned to him with a lump on his throat, but he nodded anyway. “Did you forgive me?”

“What?” he asked, caught completely off guard.

“You told me you didn’t know if you would be able to forgive me, and yet you had already started to,” he said, and Will nodded, because he obviously remembered. “But I’m asking you now… Did you truly forgive me for what I did to you?”

“I did… I do. I forgave you long before I actually wanted to,” he said, smiling a little with sadness at the realization. “But I want you to know, I actually _do_ want to forgive you.”

“Betrayal and forgiveness are seen as something akin to falling in love. You cannot control with respect to whom you fall in love… The same happens with forgiveness. In the end, it’s not something you can control.”

Will smiled then, a bright, wide smile.

“Are you saying you love me…?” he asked, in a teasing tone.

“You already know very well how I feel about you, Will,” Hannibal answered, and then he lowered his gaze. Will expanded his mind towards him, and he bit his lower lip when he sensed that he was actually a little overwhelmed.

“I do, but I want you to say it. Are you…?”

“Love sounds too petty of a word to describe how I feel about you,” he said, looking at him again.

Hannibal then left his glass on the little wooden table beside the couch, and he moved closer to him. Will’s heart skipped a beat when he raised his hands, cupping his face in his hands.

“But if you need to hear it from my lips… I do love you, Will.”

That time, when the need of kissing Hannibal hit him, Will didn’t control himself. He sensed the fear and anguish he had felt leaving him as he leaned forwards to Hannibal’s lips, devouring him in a hungry kiss. He moaned against his lips when he felt Hannibal’s fingers slipping behind the back of his sweater, and then he knew he couldn’t wait anymore.

“Hannibal…” he managed to say in between kisses, and then he pulled back a little to look at him. “Do you… want to go to the bedroom?”

Hannibal stared at him with his chest heaving and his eyes widened in surprise and confusion, and he felt even more attracted to him in that moment. Will let his mind expand to him and he felt both of their arousal, and then he kissed him again, moving closer to his body and feeling the fabric of the suit against him. But when he slid the fingers of his free hand into his hair, Hannibal pushed him a little, breaking the contact, and he heard himself whimpering a little.

“Wait…” Hannibal said, and Will frowned. “How drunk are you?”

“After two glasses of wine and…” he looked at the glass in his hand, and then he turned to him again, “half a glass of whisky? Not even slightly drunk.”

“Good.”

Hannibal took the glass of whisky from his hand and left it next to his own, and when he turned again to him, he grabbed his hands and stood up, dragging him with him.

“We’ll take it slow, okay?” Hannibal said, probably so Will wouldn’t get scared, as he had done the previous times, but Will chuckled while Hannibal pulled him closer again.

“Well, I hope not _too_ slow,” he said, and that made Hannibal grin.

Hannibal pressed his body against Will’s, kissing him again, and when he started moving forward, Will let him guide him, only breaking the contact when he hit the wall with his back, so he grabbed Hannibal by the suit’s lapels and hauled him to the bedroom. Once they were inside, he took a second to look at him out of breath, and what he saw turned him even more if it was possible; Hannibal’s hair was disheveled, his lips red from the friction, and the impeccable suit was now wrinkled and messy.

Will pulled from the suit’s jacket again, and then he unbuttoned it and took it off slowly, letting it fall on the floor. Hannibal observed him with lascivious eyes when he started doing the same with the shirt underneath, running his tongue over his own lips as if he couldn’t wait anymore… But he did wait, patiently, while Will took delight in each bit of new skin that he revealed with every button he undid. When he finally opened it, he let the shirt slide over Hannibal’s broad shoulders while he leaned forwards to his left. He pressed his lips against the cut that Hannibal had done to himself what seemed a lifetime ago, _his_ cut, and he kissed him. He felt Hannibal’s breathing growing heavier, and he moved to his neck, raising his head and kissing him right behind his jaw. He kept going upwards, and he stood on tiptoe to press his lips over the cut on Hannibal’s cheekbone.

When Will leaned backwards to look at him, Hannibal stayed still, looking at him with hungry eyes but not moving at all. He knew in that moment that he was restraining himself because of him, as he had done many times before. So Will took Hannibal’s hands with his and put them on his hips, telling him it was okay with a look. He finally moved and his hands grabbed the lower part of Will’s sweater and shirt. He looked at him once again, and Will nodded, so he pulled it up. The second he took it off, Will grabbed Hannibal’s belt and went to the bed without taking his eyes off of Hannibal. When he touched the foot of the bed with his calves, he sat on the edge, and then he started moving backwards on top of the mattress. But he didn’t have to wait long, because Hannibal took his shoes off in two quick movements and then he got on the bed after him. When he started crawling on top of him, Will lost the little control over himself he had, and he received him with a wild kiss.

Hannibal then left his lips and started kissing him everywhere: his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, his collarbone… But he didn’t stop there, not that time, and he kept descending, making him loudly moan with every new touch in his chest, above his ribs, on his belly… and then he reached the uncovered and almost completely healed wound. It was still a little red and swollen, but Hannibal put both hands over Will’s hips and then he stuck his tongue out and drew a line over the wound. Will felt the slight pain blending with the pleasure, the cool of his skin welcoming Hannibal’s hot and wet tongue, and he thought he was going to pass out from the pleasure.

“Oh shit, Hannibal…”

He let himself fall against the mattress, his heart out of control and his breathing coming out in gasps.

“Do you want me to do something, Will?” Hannibal told him then in a deep voice.

Will raised his head again, and he saw him knelt on the mattress right between his legs, and the amount of things he wanted him to do to him started crowding inside his mind. He felt his own erection pulsing in his pants, and he opened his mouth but no sound came out, so he just nodded.

Hannibal put his hands on Will’s knees, and then he trailed his thighs up until he reached his waist, where he took the elastic of his pants and started pulling down. He did everything so slowly that he thought he was going to come, and when the pants went over his boxers, his breath got stuck on his throat and he fell on the mattress again, covering his face with both hands. When Hannibal finally took his pants off, along with his shoes, he stood over him again and his lips lingered over Will’s, but not touching him at any moment.

“I need you to say it… Do you want me to do something?” he asked him, and Will felt his breath against his ear.

In that moment, he realized what he was doing; a few weeks back, Hannibal had offered to _do something_ to help him sleep, but Will hadn’t known then exactly what he meant, and he had ended up rejecting his advances. So now Hannibal was making him say it out loud, and Will hid his face behind his hands again for a second.

“Oh you…” he started saying, but he contained himself and finally tried to say it while he felt himself blushing. “Y-yes, I want you to do something.”

Hannibal gave him a wide smile, and then he clicked his tongue, shaking his head, but he still moved backwards, stopping over his erection once again, not touching him at all except for a hand that brushed the outside of his thighs.

“But I need you to say it, Will. You don’t mean cuddling again, do you?” he asked him, enjoying himself.

“You little shit…” he said, but he still laughed.

Will rested his elbows on the mattress, and looked at him with his chest going up and down rapidly.

“I don’t mean cuddling again, no,” Will said, in a husky voice.

He hadn’t even finished saying it when Hannibal stuck his thumbs on the elastic of his boxers and pulled downwards, taking them off a lot more quickly than he had with the pants and Will helping him pushing his hips upwards. Will gasped, but he didn’t take his eyes off of Hannibal when he threw his underwear to the floor and looked at his erection, finally free from every piece of fabric. And the look of hunger and desire on Hannibal’s face made it even more difficult to keep breathing.

Hannibal smiled at him again, and then he lay down on his stomach between his legs. Will felt a slight pang of pain in his left shoulder that he instantly knew it wasn’t his, but Hannibal’s. But before he could say anything to him, the other made him spread his thighs and firmly gripped his cock with a hand; his elbows failed him, and he fell on the mattress again.

“Oh god…”

He quickly tried to raise his head again, and Hannibal returned his gaze for a second. He murmured something in a language he didn’t understand, and then he took his cock in his mouth. When he felt his wet, hot lips wrapping him, he moaned loudly, fisting the sheets. He tried not to avert his eyes, but then Hannibal’s tongue started drawing circles on the head of his cock and sucking while he went up and down, so he closed his eyes and arched his back, unable to control himself.

He felt Hannibal taking his left thigh and putting it over his good shoulder, adjusting his position without stopping, and Will dug the heel of his other foot on the mattress, trying not to buck his hips upwards. When he was able to raise his head again he looked at Hannibal, and he almost melted at the vision of his head bobbing between his legs, his red lips going up and down around his cock, his hair swinging with his movements, his hand firmly holding his thigh between his neck and shoulder, and the muscles on his back flexed… Will extended his hand and slid his fingers in his hair, grabbing it and letting his hand go up and down with the movement.

He once again felt like he was falling, like there was absolutely nothing else except them, except Hannibal’s mouth around him, except his tongue and Will’s moans. And then he felt like he was about to explode, and he fisted Hannibal’s hair tighter.

“Hannibal, I’m gonna- Hannibal…“

But he didn’t pull back. The orgasm shook him from the depths of his guts to the last part of his body, making him bend and curl his toes. When he fell onto the mattress again, he focused on catching his breath while everything except Hannibal blurred around him. Hannibal appeared in his field of vision, crawling over him again, and fell on his stomach beside him, on top of his left arm, trying to even his breathing too. They looked at each other for a few seconds, and then Will smiled, feeling euphoric. Hannibal smiled too, and then Will used the strength he had left to stretch his neck and kiss him on the mouth.

“Do you… do you want me to… do something for you?”

  
Will asked him that and he meant it; he would’ve done anything if he had asked him, but in that moment, he felt a little of the familiar fear. Not at the thought of letting Hannibal touch him the way he had just done, but because Hannibal was the first man he had ever been with, so… What if he didn’t know what to do, or how to do it? What if, after what Hannibal had just done to him, he was a disappointment to him…?

But Hannibal had probably sensed his hesitation, because he smiled and put his forehead against his, running a hand through his cheek.

“Don’t worry… I felt it too,” he said, and Will knew he meant through the connection.

He nodded, and then Hannibal stood up. He went to the bathroom and came back with a towel that he gave Will so he could clean up a little. Something like that could’ve been incredibly awkward in another situation, but Hannibal made everything feel natural, as if they had done that a million times. While Will cleaned himself, he went to the wardrobe and took his pants off. He put the suit on a hanger, taking the jacket and shirt from the floor, where they had left them, and Will chuckled, because he had known he hated leaving the clothes lying there. Then, he picked Will’s clothes and left them on the chair perfectly folded, and finally he took his boxers from the corner of the room in which they had ended up and gave them to him while he returned to the bed, also in his underwear. Will put them on while Hannibal covered both of them with the sheets, and then he turned the bedroom’s lights off.

Since both of their wounds were much better, Will lay down on his side instead of lying on his back as he had done every single night since they were there, and he tucked his head under Hannibal’s chin, hugging him and feeling his arms wrapping him too. He quickly felt his eyelids closing, completely exhausted, and he felt his lips stretching in a sleepy smile.

“I love you too, Hannibal…”

Will fell asleep wrapped in Hannibal’s arms and in the intense but warm feeling of bliss they were both feeling in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!! Oh gosh, how I've missed updating these, three? weeks!! I hope you've missed the fic, too? Haha Okay, seriously, I do hope all of you had a wonderful holidays, and I hope this can be a sort of late Christmas + New Year gift? :)
> 
> About the chapter, I don't have much to say... Except that they finally did the do!!!! Okay, they already did ~something at the beginning of the fic, but it wasn't the same, obviously. But I hope it was worth the wait? (not that this is the only thing they'll do *cough*) :3  
> Also, thanks a lot to those who have shared/rec'd the fic in Tumblr (or any other place?), really, it makes me so happy!!!<3  
> Aaand, I think that's it? 
> 
> Songs!
> 
> · [Coming Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRXO77hJGKA), Halsey  
> · [Compass](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DR6Mf8LVQMc), Zella Day  
> · [Heal](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zVxdY4rWIlQ), Tom Odell
> 
> (For anyone interested in the fanmix, I'll upload it in 8tracks + post it in Tumblr probably when I update the last chapter of the fic. I'll let you know here, of course!)


	19. Nineteen

**[Quantico, Virginia]**

Jack had been staring at the same piece of paper for at least five minutes when a timid knock made him blink and look at the door.

“Come in,” he said out loud.

A man dressed with an FBI jacket entered hesitantly, but stayed with his hand on the door’s handle, and Jack raised an eyebrow when he didn’t speak at first.

“Yes?”

“Sir, I… I came to inform you that they still haven’t found anything. They’ve looked in the vicinity of Buffalo Bill’s house and the near towns three times now. No sign of… No sign of Will Graham or Hannibal Lecter, sir.”

Jack sighed, although it wasn’t something that surprised him. He had accepted that they wouldn’t find Will buried there… That wasn’t Hannibal Lecter’s style, after all. If he were to leave his body, he would make sure that they would find him, and he would make a spectacle out of it.

“Fine, thanks…” he said, and he ran a hand through his face. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the man still standing there. “Why are you still here?” he asked him brusquely.

“Sorry, sir, it’s just… The search teams want to know if we should continue the searching… It’s been three weeks, and-“

Jack glared at the man and he suddenly stopped talking.

“I’m sorry, are you asking me right now if I want you to keep doing _your_ jobs?” he asked him, raising his voice with each word until he shouted the last one.

“No, sir, they just-“

“Get out of here!!”

He did it so quickly he almost hit the doorframe with his shoulder, and he left the door ajar. But Jack didn’t even have time to get up to close it when Alana appeared behind it, looking at Jack with her eyebrows raised.

“I was going to ask how you were doing, but…” she said, making clear that she had heard his yelling.

“Yeah, don’t ask…” he said, but he was much more calm.

He sighed again while Alana came in, closing the door and sitting in the chair in front of him.

“Still nothing?”

“No…” he shook his head, and then he leaned forwards, resting his elbows on the desk. “I just don’t get it, I really don’t. The evidence doesn’t add up, Alana…” he started saying, even though she was up-to-date with the case, considering her personal and professional involvement with both Will and Hannibal Lecter. “I keep asking myself over and over, why the hell did Will turn around? Why did he call to ask where Hannibal’s van was headed? And how on _earth_ did both of them end up in Buffalo Bill’s house…? It just… it doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t know, Jack…” she said, even though both of them knew his questions were rhetorical. “But we have to at least keep trying to find him…”

Jack then tried to smile, but he ended up frowning.

“He might not even be alive anymore…” he said, and he closed his eyes for a second, realizing the truth in his own words.

He fell silent for a few minutes, because he didn’t want to say out loud what he was really thinking... That, deep down, a small part of himself actually wished that Will _would_ be dead, because the alternatives were far worse…

Alana sighed then and smiled sadly.

“You know, Abigail is convinced that he’s still alive and well somewhere. She won’t hear otherwise.”

“I wish I could share her optimism...” Jack said.

“Well… We still don’t know, Jack. Anything’s possible with Hannibal Lecter, I guess.”

“Yeah… anything’s possible…” he repeated, although he didn’t sound really convinced.

Alana stood up, and she gave him a sympathetic nod before going out of the room and leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He turned his chair, facing the wall behind his desk, and then rubbed his temples, still unable to think about anything else. Because apart from the fact that Will could be alive or dead, what kept him awake at nights was what he had told Alana: nothing made sense. He did not understand why had Will decided to turn around and go look for Hannibal on his own, and he certainly didn’t understand what could’ve possibly happened between the moment in which he had found out that Hannibal had escaped and the fight in Buffalo Bill’s hideout. Where was Will when he had called him to tell him that they hadn’t found Buffalo Bill…? Had he done something crazy because of that reason, or was it something else that he couldn’t quite grasp? _What_ could he possibly have been thinking…?

****

Will opened his eyes and the first thing he did was stretch out and squeeze Hannibal in his arms. The pressure woke Hannibal up, and he groaned a little in a false complaint and rolled over Will, lying down on top of him and burying him under his body. Will chuckled a little and he kissed the crook of Hannibal’s neck, which made the other smile too. He finally moved aside to give him a little space, but he stayed with half of his body on top of Will.

“Morning,” Will said, and Hannibal put his head on the pillow so he could look at him.

“Good morning.”

Hannibal craned his neck to press his lips against Will’s in a quick kiss, and when he pulled back again, Will couldn’t help to laugh.

“This is so weird.”

“What is?” Hannibal asked him, smiling.

“Having you here, all the time. Waking up beside you, not having to focus on you to see you…” Will said, and he moved his hand until he met Hannibal’s side under the sheets, where he left his fingers.

“I hope it’s a good kind of weird,” he said, sliding his own hand between the mattress and Will’s back.

“The best kind of weird…”

Hannibal beamed again, and he kept looking at him with a look of such adoration that Will felt like his chest was about to explode, and he had to bite his lower lip at that sight, but he held his gaze during which felt like an eternity.

“I used to think eyes were distracting…” he whispered then, still looking at him. “You see too much, you don’t see enough…”

“I know. I noticed how you averted your eyes, shielded yourself behind your glasses… ” Hannibal said, fondling his back.

Will nodded, and then he rolled a little to his side to be able to move his hand to Hannibal’s lower back, until he encountered the elastic of his boxer.

“I’m not averting my eyes from you… not anymore,” Will said, and then he smiled again. “I want to see everything.”

Will sensed how Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat, and when he pulled him closer, Will pressed his forehead against his and they stayed like that while each of them caressed the other. When he pulled back, he let his gaze drop to his bare chest and he chuckled again.

“You know, even not seeing you with that uniform all the time is a little weird,” he said, getting back to their previous topic.

Hannibal snorted but didn’t lose his smile.

“I assure you, I don’t feel weird at all being free of that hideous thing.”

Will smiled and nosed Hannibal’s neck right under his jaw.

“I don’t know, I think I was getting attached to it…” he said in a playful tone of voice.

Hannibal pulled backwards to be able to look at him with an eyebrow raised.

“I don’t see how you could, it was the most unflattering thing.”

“I don’t think anything could be unflattering on you…”

“It made me look fat, Will,” he said, and he sounded so upset that Will couldn’t stop a loud laugh from rising from his throat.

“It did not…”

But just as he said it, he remembered how different Hannibal looked with the uniform and with the clothes he had seen him wearing in his mind palace, and now that they were there in the cabin. It was true that he looked leaner and even more graceful than he already did since he had met him.

“Will, if you _really_ think that uniform was flattering maybe you weren’t as straight as you thought so…” Hannibal said, teasing him and grinning.

Will felt himself blushing, but he shrugged a little.

“Maybe I just liked you.”

“From the very beginning…? Even when you thought I was a figment of your imagination, right?”

“Sure,” he lied, and his sly smile betrayed him even before Hannibal could feel it through their connection.

He felt Hannibal’s hand on his back lowering to his waist, spreading his fingers apart, and then he pulled Will towards him, not leaving a single space between them.

“You liar,” he whispered right beside his ear.

Will’s breath turned ragged when he felt their chests colliding, but Hannibal just kissed him again and then loosened his embrace before getting away from him and up from the bed.

Will heard himself groaning at his sudden absence, but he stayed there and followed Hannibal with his gaze to the bathroom, where he gave him a grin before closing the door. In that moment, Will pulled the sheets until they covered him entirely, and he bit his lower lip, his cheeks hurting from smiling all the time. He moved his face to the pillow, and when he inhaled, the scent of Hannibal invaded his nostrils. He inevitably remembered the night before, and he felt his entire body burning with the memory. He remembered all the nights Hannibal had slept with him in his bed through the connection, but he also remembered all the mornings he had woken up alone, and obviously, with no trace of Hannibal’s scent or anything at all. But now he _was_ there, and as he had said to him, it really _was_ weird and different… And Will smiled again at how incredibly amazing everything felt.

When Hannibal went out of the bathroom, Will stuck his head out of the sheets, and he saw him putting on a pair of pants and taking his red sweater from the wardrobe.

“I’m going to make breakfast,” he said from the foot of the bed.

“Ok, I’ll be there in a second.”

Hannibal nodded and smiled at him before going out, and when he did, Will jumped out of bed, which made his wound remind him that he was still injured, even if the cut was completely healed on the outside. He got dressed with his clothes, which Hannibal had left in the chair the night before, and after going to the bathroom to wash up and brush his teeth, he went into the living room. He hugged himself when he went out and saw that the fireplace was obviously out, long forgotten after they had gone into the bedroom, so the first thing he did was start it again. Once he had managed that, he went to the kitchen, where Hannibal was already cooking something. He saw that he was whisking what looked like some kind of flour in a bowl, and Will remembered that they had bought pancakes and crepes mixes, since the actual ingredients weren’t as durable as those.

Will went to him and hugged him from behind, resting his chin over his shoulder and sliding his hands under Hannibal’s sweater, feeling his warm skin under his fingers. He saw Hannibal pause for a second, stopping the movement of his hands when he felt Will’s touch, but he quickly tipped his head and smiled. He put his own hand on top of Will’s, caressing the back of his hand, and then he resumed what he was doing.

“Do you want me to help set the frying pan?” Will asked him, tilting his head to be able to focus his features.

“And leave my back unprotected?” he joked.

Will smiled, a warm feeling spreading through his chest, but he squeezed Hannibal a little and then released him. He did as he had said, and together they cooked what ended up being, in fact, pancakes. When they were eating in the table, Will kept looking at Hannibal and remembering the previous night, so he would blush while the other just smiled at him.

After breakfast, they moved to the couch, each of them with a book in their hands. But after a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to focus on the book, Will raised his gaze and saw that Hannibal wasn’t looking at his book, either, but staring off into space. Will was with his back against the armrest and his legs on top of the couch, whereas Hannibal was just sitting in the opposite side of the couch. So Will stretched his foot and pushed him in the thigh a little, so as to attract his attention. Hannibal blinked and looked at him; Will raised his eyebrows inquisitively, and the other closed the book he _wasn’t_ reading, turning his body a little to face him.

“Can I ask you something, Will?”

He smiled, because he had been thinking about asking _him_ something, too.

“Quid pro quo? You ask me something, I ask you something afterwards,” he said, and Hannibal also smiled.

“Of course.”

Will nodded and closed his own book, leaving it on the floor over the rug.

“Okay, you first.”

He changed his posture, sitting cross-legged, closer to him. But Hannibal seemed to be hesitant or considering his words, because it took him a minute to finally raise his gaze and look at him again.

“If the deal hadn’t been fake…” he started saying. “If they had truly moved me to the other facility and we could’ve planned an escape… You were already considering to come here at least once, to visit me.”

Will nodded slowly, because that had been his plan. Or, at least, that’s what he had told himself before everything had suddenly happened.

“So… would you have really done that? If you hadn’t been forced to make such a prompt decision, would you have just visited me once and watch me leave, or… would you have stayed, come with me…?”

Will gave him a half smile, because not even the connection allowed them to know everything, and he found Hannibal’s doubt endearing.

“I tried to tell myself that I would only visit you, that I would come and see you and that would be it,” he said, and Hannibal stayed very still. “But the truth is… I would have stayed, Hannibal. I _wanted_ to run away with you, and I made the decision long before I even knew it. The situation, the fake deal, how rushed everything was... That only made me finally see it clearly.”

_Hannibal looked down for a moment, remembering the moment when he had seen Will. He had been in the woods, taking the cuffs from his ankles so he could move freely after the last policeman had shot at him. But when he had seen Will beside the other man, he had frozen. He was there; he had left the Buffalo Bill chase just to go to him… And in that moment, Hannibal finally knew that, whatever would’ve happened, Will was going to go with him either way._

_When he raised his gaze again, having collected himself a bit, he smiled and nodded._

_“Okay, quid pro quo. Your turn.”_

_Will bit his lower lip for a second, and then he changed his posture again, moving closer to him, almost touching Hannibal’s shoulder with his chest. He seemed to consider something and then, instead of asking him anything, he moved even closer and tucked his nose behind his ear, where he pressed his lips in a light kiss. That made him feel a shiver of pleasure, and when he pulled back, Hannibal looked at him and Will was smiling, proud of knowing it was his doing. He guessed that he had done that because of how his answer had affected him, so he smiled too._

_“Interesting question.”_

_Will’s smile stretched wider while Hannibal tossed the book he still had on his lap aside and wrapped his arms around him at the same time that he pushed him to the opposite side of the couch until they were both lying down. Hannibal then kissed him in the lips, but he quickly started descending over his jaw and neck, feeling the slight stubble that covered it and inhaling his incredible scent. He still could catch a faint smell of Will’s house and the dogs, and he wished they were there with them, in the cabin._

_“I really wanted to ask you something,” Will whispered, his breath turning shallower with every kiss._

_“I’m listening,” he purred against his neck, still kissing him._

_“Hannibal…”_

_Hannibal knew he could abandon himself in him for hours, but under Will’s increasing arousal, he sensed that he_ really _wanted to ask him something, so he finally raised his head reluctantly, but with a content smile in his lips._

_“Okay, what is it that you want to ask me?”_

_Will smiled too, but he shook his head and moved a little from under him, pressing his back against the couch’s cushions._

_“You distract me,” he told him, and Hannibal raised his eyebrows._

_“I’m not the one who started that…”_

_He still lay down beside Will, resting his elbow on the armrest and his head on the heel of his palm, as a way of telling him that he was listening._

_“Well… what is the plan?” he finally asked him after a few seconds. “I mean, this cabin is only temporary, right?”_

_“You don’t like it here?” Hannibal asked him, even though he knew the answer._

_“I_ do _like it here, but I guess we’re not staying forever. Besides, it’s not like the food and gas are going to last more than a couple of months.”_

_“Yes, we will stay here until we’re completely healed and they have calmed down a little,” Hannibal said, and he knew Will understood he meant the FBI, who were still looking for them. But eventually they would have to stop, reduce the resources destined to find them, and focus on other cases._

_“And then?”_

_“Then I thought maybe we could go to Europe,” he said, but he couldn’t avoid the slight tone of hesitation in his voice, waiting to see how Will would react._

_“Florence?” Will asked him, and a smile appeared on his lips again, so Hannibal felt better._

_“Yes… I want to show you Florence, Will.”_

_Hannibal put a hand over Will’s cheek, brushing his hair back with his fingertips and then he tilted his head to meet Will’s cheek, and whispered to him._

_“And Paris, and Barcelona… I want to see the whole world with you, Will.”_

_That time it was Will the one who shuddered a little when he felt Hannibal’s breath against his ear, and when he pulled back to meet his eyes, Will slowly ran his eyes from Hannibal’s to his lips._

_“We might not make it past the hotel rooms if you keep doing that…”_

_“We’ll go to very beautiful hotel rooms, then.”_

_Will chuckled, and Hannibal let himself fall on the couch, completely lying down._

_“Okay, seriously. What’s your plan for getting out of the country?”_

_Hannibal fell silent and shrugged a little, and that made Will raise his eyebrows._

_“Wait… you don’t have a plan?”_

_“My plan was to get out of prison and be able to hold you in my arms,” he simply said, because it was the truth, and he felt Will’s heart beating faster with his words. “I accomplished that, didn’t I?”_

_Will smiled again, and he had to look down for a second, which always delighted Hannibal._

_“Anyhow, there_ is _something I have to do before going away,” Hannibal said, and Will frowned. “I have to pay an old friend a visit… Say farewell.”_

_Hannibal knew that Will had immediately understood him, and he lay down on the couch beside him, since it was big enough to fit both of them as long as one of them were sideways._

_“You’re going to invite him over for dinner,” he said, and Hannibal moved his hand to Will’s waist almost unconsciously. He nodded, even though it hadn’t been a question._

_“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, though,” Hannibal said in a whisper._

_Will looked at him for a few seconds, then. Hannibal would give him as much time and space as needed, not only for their intimacy, but for that too. They had already killed together, but he knew that wasn’t something Will could get used to like that, even though it had been something that he had felt inside him during his entire life. But still, Will shook his head slowly against the armrest._

_“I’ll go with you,” Will said, and he smiled a little._

_“I’m very pleased to hear that. But…” he said, remembering a conversation that they had had no that long ago. “You once told me you wouldn’t be able to kill innocent people in cold blood, and I told you that maybe you wouldn’t have to. I meant it.”_

_Will nodded a little, probably remembering that conversation, too._

_“I know… But it all depends on your definition of ‘innocent’, don’t you think?” Will said, and he grinned. “I would call our friend a lot of things, but innocent is not one of them.”_

_Hannibal moved his hand to Will’s back and then he pulled him closer to kiss him, so there was even less space between their bodies, and Will curled his leg around Hannibal’s._

_“I may have an idea,” Will said when Hannibal pulled back, and that was the only thing that kept Hannibal from kissing him again._

_“Uhmm… about what?”_

_“About how we’re going leave the country,” he said._

_Will told him his idea, and he agreed that it was indeed their best option, so he closely listened to him while he explained it, and then they both planned the details as they spoke._

_When they fell silent, Hannibal thought of something, so he sat up a little again, resting his elbow on the couch._

_“It is a really good plan, Will. We can go there after saying goodbye to our friend… And after taking the dogs, of course.”_

_Will seemed immersed in his own thoughts, probably thinking about the plan they had just discussed, but in that moment he turned to look at him furrowing his brow._

_“The… The dogs?”_

_“Yes,” Hannibal said, not understanding why he seemed so shocked._

_“What- I mean… You want to take the_ dogs _with us?”_

_Hannibal grinned a little, amused by his confusion._

_“Of course I do. We’re not going to leave them here, are we?”_

_Hannibal had never been someone who needed a pet, not even when he was a child. It wasn’t like he hated animals, and he certainly had never killed them for pleasure, as many psychiatrist had suggested when they had tried to study him in Baltimore… But the truth was, he had grown fond of Will’s dogs. He knew that the connection and especially Will had had something to do with that, but they weren’t the sole reason. He truly cared about them, and he wanted to take them._

_“But… What…” Will started asking, and then he laughed, sitting up in the couch. “We can’t take_ seven _dogs to Europe. Not only it would arouse suspicion, it wouldn’t be good for them. They need stability, and a travel to Europe would be crazy.”_

_Hannibal then furrowed his brow, because despite everything, he knew that Will was right. He lowered his gaze considering his options, but he couldn’t think of anything to convince Will. After a few seconds, Will sighed._

_“We could- I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…” Will started saying, and Hannibal looked up again. “We could take Buster if you_ really _want to. I mean, he’s pretty old to familiarize himself to another owner…”_

_Hannibal was sure that the last part Will had added was merely an excuse, that he was proposing that because he knew how fond of that little dog he had grown. He smiled broadly, and right when he was leaning to kiss him, Will pulled back with a finger between them._

_“And, I mean, since we’re taking Buster we should take Winston too. He’s the newest in the pack, so it will also be hard for him, that many changes in so little time… And that way Buster wouldn’t be alone, you know?”_

_“Of course,” Hannibal said, and Will snorted, knowing his arguments were a little weak._

_Hannibal finally pulled him closer and they kissed, but when he moved back, he grinned._

_“You know, this was_ not _the part of the conversation I thought you’d have a problem with,” Hannibal said, and Will shook his head but smiled too._

_Hannibal then moved away from him and he sat on the edge of the couch, ready to get up._

_“You have to decide about Abigail, though,” he told him, turning around to look at him, and Will tilted his head, but Hannibal knew he had understood what he meant._

_“I’ve thought about it a lot…” Will said, but then he shook his head a little with a sigh. “I’d love to take her with us, but… I don’t think it’s the right time. I don’t think it would be fair for her.”_

_Hannibal nodded. He probably would’ve made another decision, but he had decided he would let Will choose about her._

_When he knew Will wasn’t speaking again, he stood up from the couch._

_“I’m going to go take a quick shower before lunch,” he told him, and Will let himself fall against the couch, extending his hand and touching Hannibal’s as he walked by him._

_“Okay… But don’t be long, I’ll go in after you.”_

_Will released his hand, but Hannibal didn’t move right away. Instead, looked at him next to the couch’s armrest._

_“You know, if we showered together we would save a great deal of water,” he said._

_Will turned quickly to look at him, so Hannibal grinned and finally left to the bedroom, leaving him there with a sudden arousal and confusion._

_Hannibal undressed as slowly as he could, but he finally had to go into the shower accepting that Will wasn’t taking his advice, that he wasn’t ready for that. But he had just washed his hair when he heard the bathroom door closing. The shower’s walls were opaque, so he couldn’t see anything until the door to it opened and Will appeared behind it… naked. Hannibal stayed completely still with the water falling over him, making him half close his eyes so he could see through the rain, but he let his gaze lower, studying Will; the hungry look in his eyes, that reminded him of the times when they had kissed and Will had lost control over himself, the droplets of water that were starting to reach him, his chest heaving with his agitated breathing, his evident erection…_

_Will finally stepped inside closing the door behind him, and he didn’t even give him a second to process everything when he put a hand on his right shoulder and pushed him against the wall. The blow made his other shoulder hurt, but then Will kissed him hot and urgent under the water, and he couldn’t have cared less about the pain. Hannibal tried to wrap his arms around his wet skin once he could finally react, but Will pulled back the second Hannibal put his hands on his hips, and he looked at him with a sly smile that made Hannibal’s heart skip a beat._

_“Do you remember when you came into my shower?” he asked him in a low, clearly flirtatious voice._

_Hannibal didn’t answer, and not only because he knew it wasn’t really a question, but because Will suddenly slid his other hand down until he met Hannibal’s cock. He gasped and opened his mouth, taken by surprise, but he still smiled._

_“When you touched me like that…” Will continued saying while he wrapped his fingers around his erection. “I couldn’t touch myself for months, you know? Every time I tried to, I felt_ your _hands over my skin, on my shoulder… on my cock.”_

_Will said the last word right by his ear, and Hannibal had to let his head fall against the cold tiles, feeling a shiver of pleasure running down his entire body. In that moment, Will started moving his hand, and he heard himself groaning._

_“S-slower,” he managed to say in between heavy breaths._

_Will did as he told him, and he slowed the rhythm down. Hannibal put both hands on Will’s shoulders to lean against something, and he looked at him again, not wanting to miss any little detail of him. Will was panting too, and Hannibal felt another wave of pleasure hitting him when Will applied a little pressure with his palm. Will leaned in then, going first at his neck and running his hot tongue from his Adam’s apple up to his ear, where he bit his earlobe and provoked him a shameless moan. When Will met his gaze again, he saw a smirk on his lips, so proud of being able to elicit that kind of sound out of him, and he kissed him again, their breaths merging between them, the water running down their faces._

_When he moved back again, Will suddenly stopped the movement of his hand and started kneeling. Hannibal understood what he was doing, but he stopped him before he went down._

_“You don’t have to do that, Will,” he said, fearing Will was only doing it because he had done it the night before._

_But Will chuckled, licked his red, wet lips and gave him a lascivious look._

_“I know I don’t have to, Hannibal. But I_ want _to.”_

_That rendered him speechless, and he let Will’s shoulder go while he knelt before him. He saw him going down and observing him. Hannibal felt his hesitation, but above everything, he felt his arousal and resolution, so he patiently waited the eternal few seconds that took him before he gripped the base of his cock again with a hand. He tried to keep looking at him so he wouldn’t miss even a second of it, but when Will approached him and wrapped his mouth around him, Hannibal’s breath got stuck in his throat and he had to lean against the wall again, letting out a long, hoarse moan._

_Will was clearly a fast learner, because when he started moving against him, Hannibal felt on the verge of a wild orgasm too son, too quickly. But Will didn’t allow him to come right away, slowing down every time he felt through their connection that he was close._

_Hannibal let his hand slide down through Will’s soaked hair, grabbing his curls, and he reveled in the almost obscene sight of Will kneeling before him, the muscles of his back flexing with every movement, creating hypnotic ripples. The fingers from Will’s free hand were firmly settled in the skin of his waist, but when he felt him starting to move faster against him, Will moved his hands backwards, his fingertips sinking in his buttock to pull Hannibal’s hips towards him._

_Hannibal exploded in a brutal wave of pleasure, grabbing Will’s hair tighter. He had felt Will’s orgasms through the connection before, but that was the first time Will had touched_ him _like that, and it was the wilder, most intense thing he had ever felt, so he had to resort to every bit of the strength he had left not to fall down when he felt all the muscles in his body loosening with pleasure. When he could open his eyes again, Will was getting up, and they didn’t need to say anything else to pull each other closer and kiss again under the hot, steaming water._

_After that, they showered together, unable to take their hands off of each other and their lips off of the other’s skin while they helped each other. In the end, it turned out that Hannibal had been completely wrong; it took them longer that it would’ve taken them to shower separately._

****

Will woke up abruptly, sitting up gasping and blinking away a couple of tears. His head was spinning, so he fisted the sheets while his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he slowly returned to reality.

“Will?” Hannibal asked him beside him, and he turned to look at him.

In the dim light of the room, he only distinguished his darkened features, but that was more than enough for him to be able to start breathing evenly again. Hannibal put a hand on his back and pulled him closer, and Will let himself fall against him, burying his face on his neck and holding him probably too tightly even though he was sweaty, but Hannibal didn’t complain at all.

“Will, it’s okay, it was just a bad dream…” he told him, and Will felt the vibration of his voice against his cheek.

“But it felt so real, it was…” he started saying, but his voice failed him.

Hannibal made Will move a little backwards, enough for him to look at him, and so Will took a deep breath and tried to speak again.

“I dreamt that you weren’t with me…” he said, and he felt another tear running down his cheek. “I think it’s the worst nightmare I’ve ever had. I felt so… alone.”

Hannibal cupped Will’s face with his hands, brushing away his tears with his thumbs.

“I’m right here, Will.”

“Not in my dream, I couldn’t feel you…”

Will felt a shiver at remembering how real the dream had felt, how alone he had felt. It had been far worse than the time he had been voluntarily away from Hannibal, when he had tried to vanish him from his life. Even then, Will had still felt him, even if it had been very faintly… But in the dream, he hadn’t felt him _at all_ , and he wondered if that’s how it would feel for them if something happened to the other... But he quickly closed his eyes and shook his head to erase that thought from his mind.

In that moment, he felt Hannibal’s lips over his, kissing him softly in a light touch, anchoring and soothing him. When he pulled back, Hannibal smiled a little.

“It wasn’t real, see?”

Will nodded, smiling too and feeling much better. He lay down on the mattress again, and Hannibal recovered the sheets, that he had thrown to the foot of the bed when he had woken up. Then he lay on his stomach beside him, wrapping first the sheets around him, and then draping his arm over Will’s chest. They stayed like that looking at each other while Will drew a circle with a finger on his back, and Hannibal fondled his cheek and hair, but Will was still agitated, so neither of them fell asleep again.

When the sunrise’s light started filtering in the room through the small window, Hannibal closed his eyes and focused, and the setting around them changed. Will raised his head and smiled when he saw where Hannibal had taken them.

“This is mine,” he told him, while they both sat up a little.

Will hugged his knees and observed the water of the stream near his house in Wolf Trap where he usually went fishing in the summer. That stream had been his mind palace before he even knew about Hannibal’s, and now they both shared it. Will’s wasn’t as vast as his, and he had yet so many things from Hannibal’s mind palace to discover, but he loved that he knew exactly what he needed and when he needed it.

He closed his eyes to listen to the flowing water. He moved his hand until he found Hannibal’s, and he interlaced their fingers together while Hannibal rested his head against his shoulder, and they stayed there until Will’s fear was completely gone.

****

_When Hannibal woke up, he reached out and found the opposite side of the bed empty and cold, so he opened his eyes frowning a little; it was the first time Will woke up before him. He looked at the bathroom door, but he wasn’t there. Still, he could feel him somewhere close, so he assumed Will would be in the living room._

_Hannibal went out of bed and into the bathroom, and after brushing his teeth and washing up a little, he went out of the bedroom without bothering to put on a sweater or his shoes, since he wasn’t too cold. But when he walked into the living room, he froze at what he found: Will was moving around the kitchen. He was doing something in the cooktop, and Hannibal could see something boiling in a pot. After Will’s bad dream, they had fallen asleep pretty late, so he guessed he was cooking a sort of late lunch, and he smiled. Will was wearing his pajama pants and his apron… and nothing else underneath. So when Will started moving whatever he was cooking in the pot, he saw the muscles in his bare back and arms flexing, and Hannibal ran his tongue through his lips. In that moment, Will turned around and smiled when he saw him._

_“Morning! I wanted to wake you up when I had everything ready…”_

_Hannibal approached him, and he finally saw that the pot contained pasta and he was making a sauce with the things from the cans. He leaned in the counter and inhaled the scent._

_“It smells fantastic.”_

_Will smiled, and then he took a little of the sauce with the spoon and offered it to him. Hannibal leaned closer and tasted it without taking his eyes off of Will, and the flavor was instantly mouth-watering._

_“Tastes really good, but…” he said, and then he leaned against Will and kissed him. “Much better.”_

_Will looked down, blushing a little, and Hannibal had to control himself not to push him against the counter right there. He restrained himself not because Will would be scared about it, not after the things they were already sharing, but because he was still letting him set the rhythm, allowing him to explore and discover himself with Hannibal._

_When they were eating, Hannibal remembered something he had thought about when he had first started planning their escape together, when he had firstly included Will in his plans, so he looked at him across the table._

_“I think we should be married.”_

_In that moment, Will was drinking from his glass of wine, since they rarely needed to double the painkillers dose anymore, and he had a coughing fit, choking with the drink. Hannibal made a gesture to get up to help him, but Will raised his hand, telling him that it wasn’t necessary. Hannibal filled another glass with water and he patiently waited until Will could breathe normally again, and then he offered the glass to Will. His face had turned a little red, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the coughing or because of what Hannibal had said._

_“I’m… I’m sorry, what did you say?” Will asked after he had taken a sip from the water._

_“I think we should be a married couple,” he repeated, and then he raised his eyebrows and smiled a little. “As part of our cover.”_

_“Oh,” Will said, and then he drank from the wine again, that time swallowing the content in a big gulp._

_They fell silent while they continued eating, but Hannibal sensed that Will wanted to add something else, so he waited patiently._

_“You know, for a second there…” Will finally said, poking his pasta with his fork, “I thought you were proposing.”_

_Will chuckled nervously, and Hannibal smiled again at how uncomfortable he still got when speaking about things like that._

_“All in due course, my dear.”_

_Hannibal felt how Will’s heart skipped a beat, but he calmly stood up, leaned over the table and gave Will a quick kiss while he was still staring at him. Then, he went back to the kitchen to prepare some dessert._

After finishing the late lunch, Hannibal told him to take off the sweater he had put on after cooking, and Will raised his eyebrows with a playful smile, but he still did as he told him. Hannibal went to the bathroom and came back with a small bottle that Will took from his hands when he sat beside him on the couch.

“Rose hip oil…” he read from the label, and he remembered seeing it among the things they had bought in the pharmacy. “What was this for?”

“It actually has many uses. It can help prevent skin dehydration, it can treat dermatitis or sunburns…” he started saying while he took the bottle from Will’s hands and opened it. “And it helps accelerating the healing process of scars.”

Will nodded then, understanding how he meant to use it, and he looked at the wound in his stomach, which was beginning to form the scar tissue.

“This will make the scar go completely away?” he asked him, frowning. “I thought you… I thought you liked my scars.”

Hannibal smiled a little while he cupped his right hand and poured a short amount of the liquid in his palm.

“I do like them. The scar won’t go away, not entirely, the wound is too big and deep for that. But it will soothe the skin and eventually help fade it a little.”

Hannibal gave him the bottle back, and then he applied the oil over his stomach. Will gasped a little when he felt the cold liquid and Hannibal’s palm over his skin, but when he started moving his hand in circles, massaging the wound, Will let his head fall against the cushions and he started breathing open-mouthed, feeling his body responding to his touch. Will felt Hannibal’s free hand settling on his shoulder, and he looked at him while his hand moved rhythmically counterclockwise, putting enough pressure over the wound so it would hurt a little but so it would be tolerable. And despite Hannibal probably sensing what Will was feeling, he was completely focused on the task.

When he finished extending the oil over his stomach, Hannibal looked at him with a smile, delighted at how turned on Will was after the massage, so he rolled his eyes a little. Will gave Hannibal the bottle again, and then he gestured him to tell him that it was his turn. He obeyed and took his shirt off, turning around with his back towards him. He didn’t move at all when Will took a little amount of the liquid and applied it into the scars on Hannibal’s shoulder, as he had seen him do. But while he was massaging him with his left hand, he let his other hand slowly slide from his right shoulder, caressing his back and then moving to his side, letting his fingers roaming over Hannibal’s ribs and into his stomach. He heard Hannibal’s breathing growing thicker and felt him getting harder, and Will smiled. When he stopped the massage, Hannibal turned to him closing the bottle almost too quickly before tossing it aside and wrapping his arms around Will, pushing him to the couch and erasing his smug smile with a kiss.

****

Will put a plate with pancakes on the table, and Hannibal left the coffee pot beside that. When they were both settled in their chairs, Will took a sip from the coffee and wrinkled his nose.

“You know, I miss our coffee grinder a lot.”

“And to think that you didn’t want one…” Hannibal said, teasing him.

Will rolled his eyes but smiled a little, and put a pancake in his plate.

“Don’t worry, we’ll buy another one.”

Will stopped with the piece of pancake close to his mouth, and he looked at him. A thought had suddenly hit him, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about that before, but he was just _truly_ realizing it now.

“What do you think will happen to the house…? All my things, my clothes…?”

Hannibal raised his gaze from his breakfast and took a sip from the coffee before answering.

“They probably haven’t touched anything yet if they really believe that I kidnapped you. But once they find out that you are somehow alive and well with me, they’ll probably search it, catalogue everything,” he said, and then they fell silent. Hannibal leaned forwards, resting his elbows on the table. “Are you going to miss it…?”

Will took another sip from the coffee while he considered his answer, but he shrugged after leaving he mug back on the table.

“Having moved so much when I was a kid and all, that house was the first place I allowed myself to call home…” he said, and Hannibal nodded, because obviously he remembered everything Will had told him. “But I’m not going to miss a place. Besides, I _am_ home right now… with you.”

Hannibal’s eyes shone with a brighter smile at his words. Will expanded his mind towards him almost unconsciously, and he sensed Hannibal’s heartbeats going faster, so he smiled too and extended his hand over the table. He grazed the back of Hannibal’s and then he rolled his hand and squeezed Will’s with his. They both returned to their breakfast, not being able to stop smiling.

****

Will closed his eyes for a second and parted his lips, his breathing growing thicker at the same time that the music elevated. He bit his lower lip and ran both hands through his face and into his hair, letting out a long breath. When he opened his eyes again, he looked around, trying to identify where they were. It was a large room with minimalist decoration, and the ample windows had an incredible view of a beautiful city that he did not recognize.

“Where- Ah!” he said, letting his head fall over the cushion of the armchair. Hannibal was drawing a line of saliva over his ribs, and Will bit his lower lip again. When he could finally speak again, he raised his gaze a little. “Where are we?”

Hannibal was kneeling between his thighs, both hands firmly settled on Will’s hips, fingers sinking deep into his bare skin. He was only using his lips and tongue to kiss and lick him, and yet Will already felt on the verge of an orgasm.

His question made Hannibal raise his gaze for a second, and he looked around him, as if he didn’t remember that they were inside his mind palace, so Will wondered if he had done it unconsciously, or if he was _so_ focused on him that he just had forgotten.

“Brussels, Belgium,” he answered in a husky voice that sent another wave of pleasure down Will’s body.

Hannibal returned to Will’s body, and he moved his hands to lower a little the elastic from Will’s pants, just enough to expose a bit of new skin.

“Did you… Did you live here?” he managed to ask while Hannibal continued kissing him.

“No, I just spent here a month, for work. I stayed with a colleague,” Hannibal told him, not even bothering to stop. Will wondered if the _colleague_ had been another person that Hannibal had _invited_ over for dinner, but Hannibal seemed to read his mind. “I didn’t kill that one, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“That one?” he repeated, chuckling a little.

Will knew he was telling him the truth, but he also got something else through the connection, and he smiled.

“Was he… one of your _sexual partners_?” he asked him, remembering that’s how he had called Alana what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Hannibal raised his gaze that time, and he looked at him with a playful smile on his lips.

“He was, once or twice.”

“So you keep your ex’s house in your mind palace and you brought me here?” Will asked him, teasing him.

Hannibal put both hands on the armrests and he pushed himself upwards until he was at Will’s eye level.

“I would hardly call a man whom I had a couple of encounters an ex anything. And I chose this because it has a beautiful view. Would you prefer another location, darling?” he asked, his lips hovering over Will’s.

“No, this is fine,” Will said, craning his neck to kiss him, but Hannibal pulled back in the last moment, kneeling again, and Will snorted, shaking his head.

Hannibal grabbed his waist and pulled Will towards him, moving him enough so that he was at the edge of the armchair. Will chuckled a little when Hannibal descended to Will’s stomach once again. But he hadn’t finished talking, even though Hannibal was making it difficult for him to focus.

“So did you have a lot of… lovers?”

Hannibal pulled back again, and he grinned.

“I might be doing something wrong if you keep thinking about that right now…”

Will smiled, but he sat up, getting closer to him. He put both of his hands in Hannibal’s shoulders and pushed him a little.

“No, I’m just… curious. I only know of Alana and… the guy who lived here, apparently,” Will said, looking around him. “But I know that you have… more experience.”

Will then pushed him completely away and got up from the armchair, catching Hannibal off guard. The room in Belgium faded away with the movement, being replaced by the cabin’s living room with the familiar fireplace and wooden furniture, but the classical piece of music that Hannibal was playing for them in his mind didn’t go away.

Will helped Hannibal get up from the rug, and then he pushed him backwards until his calves hit the couch and he fell on it. Once he was sitting there, Will sat astride on top of Hannibal. He grabbed Hannibal’s sweater and t-shirt and pulled them out over his head, and then left them aside while Will moved his head down, kissing Hannibal in the neck.

“So?” Will asked him in a whisper, his breath hitting Hannibal’s skin.

Will sensed him shivering of pleasure, and that made him smile.

“So what…?” he asked, and Will felt the vibration of his voice against his lips.

“My question… Did you have a lot of lovers?”

Will followed the curve of Hannibal’s neck down to his good shoulder, where he bit him enough to make him moan a little, but not enough to leave a mark. That made him tip his head back against the cushions, leaving his neck completely exposed to him. Will smiled, still not used to having that much power over Hannibal. But he still pulled back a little, resting both hands on the cushion at both sides of his head. Hannibal finally looked at him and seemed to remember his question.

“I did have a few… _lovers_ , as you insist on calling them.”

“Women apart from Alana…?”

He went gown again, kissing him over the scar of the front side of his shoulder.

“Sure, some,” he answered, his breathing growing heavier.

“Many men…?” Will asked, and he went over the scar with his tongue.

“Several… But that’s an irrelevant detail for me.”

“And now me,” he whispered, half joking.

He was going to keep moving to his chest with his lips when Hannibal grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him backwards.

“Not like you, no.”

Will smiled a little, shaking his head.

“You know what I mean…”

“No,” he said, and Will knew then that he was serious about that. “You can’t expect me to compare any sexual encounter that I could’ve had in the past with what you and I share...”

“The connection,” Will guessed.

“Not just _the_ connection. Not the connection that allows us to visit each other, to feel each other even when we’re apart… I mean the connection between us, the one that made me feel things I had never felt before. The one that made me find an equal in you…”

Will looked at him for a long time, and it was Will’s turn to be speechless. When he finally reacted, he nodded and took Hannibal’s face in his hands. Will leaned in and pressed his lips lightly over the cut in Hannibal’s cheekbone. Then, he lowered and did the same on the corner of his mouth, which he felt stretching in a smile… and finally, he kissed him on the lips. He felt Hannibal’s hands moving to his bare back, and then he lifted Will up and made him lie down on the couch, turning their positions.

Will wrapped his arms over Hannibal’s back and made him move as closer as they could be, and when he felt Hannibal’s body over his, he moaned in between kisses. Hannibal’s hands went from his lower back to his shoulder blades, holding him against him so there wasn’t a single space between them.

****

Will inhaled through his nose, deeper than it would’ve been necessary, and he knew Hannibal would be smiling, even though he had his eyes closed. Will was lying sideways, his back against the couch’s cushions and hugging Hannibal, who was beside him. He nosed his neck again, resting his chin over his right shoulder, and he felt Hannibal moving his free hand backwards in a sort of reverse hug, leaving it on Will’s lower back.

In Hannibal’s other hand was the radio, which they had been listening to, checking if there were any recent news about them. But everything seemed to be pretty quiet; the last thing they had heard a few days back was that the FBI had suspended the search parties around Buffalo Bill’s house and the surroundings towns, but they both knew that they would at least had controls in the main roads or airports. Still, that morning they had decided that maybe it was the best possible moment to leave the cabin and do everything they needed to do to go away. So they had spent that day deciding what they would take with them and what they had to leave behind. They had stacked almost all of the remaining canned food and gas, packed their bags with their clothes, and taken a few other things like a couple of books and Hannibal’s drawing sketchpad.

In that moment they were resting, and Hannibal had changed the radio’s station from the news to one of old music, leaving it as background. But Will was more focused on holding Hannibal against him than the music, so he squeezed him again with both of his arms around him, and he felt in his chest the slight vibration of Hannibal chuckling. In that moment, the song ended and a new one started, and it took him a second to recognize it, but as soon as he did, Will opened his eyes, surprised. Hannibal rolled over a little in his arms to be able to look at him, and a smile lit up his face.

“Will,” he simply said.

And Will understood what he meant.

“No way,” he said, but his lips betrayed him with a smile when the memory came to his mind.

Hannibal got up, ignoring Will’s attempt at pulling him back to the couch. He left the radio in the closest armchair, and then he turned to him and offered him a hand, bowing down a little.

“Come on, Will. Dance with me.”

Will shook his head, but seeing Hannibal with that happy expression made him doubt for a moment, and Hannibal sensed it; he grabbed his hand and hauled him upwards. As soon as he was standing up, he pulled him against him, wrapping his right arm around his waist and his left hand around Will’s, exactly as the first time they had danced many months ago in Jack’s anniversary party. But that time had been different, that time had felt like a dream; he had been sick, and it had been Hannibal the one who had offered to dance with Beverly using his body… and in the end, _they_ had ended up dancing together, somehow, thanks to the connection.

Hannibal started swinging at the rhythm of the same Elvis’ song that had been played that day, and he looked at him unable to stop smiling. Will felt his cheeks flushing, and he looked down while he remembered that moment.

“You should already know that I don’t know how to dance, I-”

Hannibal pulled him even closer, and Will fell silent while he finally wrapped his own arm around Hannibal, fisting the shirt he was wearing, and tucked his head on the crook of his neck.

“You just have to feel it and let me guide you… Exactly as we did that time.”

And he did. He let Hannibal’s movements guide him as they swung with the song in the space between the couch and the two armchairs. He closed his eyes while the deep voice of Elvis sang about a love that flowed like a river, a love that was meant to be, and he smiled.

But when the song ended and another one started, Hannibal didn’t stop, and by that time, Will was too comfortable in his arms to pull away, so they kept moving at the rhythm of a song that neither of them knew.

“You know, I’ve been thinking that you should write to Bedelia du Maurier,” Hannibal said then, and Will opened his eyes, a little surprised. He had to think for a second whom he meant, but he quickly remembered her: the Sensates expert. “I don’t mean now, of course. But once we’ve settled somewhere, once things are calm… I think maybe you should write her.”

“To let her know she is right, that we exist…?” he guessed.

“Maybe not telling her who we are, but… Yes.”

Will pulled back a little to meet his eyes, but not stopping the movement, and he remembered how right she had been in some of her theories.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll do it. It could be interesting,” he said, smiling a little. “That is, of course, if she believes me.”

Hannibal suddenly took a step backwards and made him spin, and Will laughed when he pulled him closer again.

“I’ve been thinking that we could also write Miss Starling,” he said, and Will furrowed his brow.

“Who- Oh my god, the FBI trainee?”

He tried to push him away, but Hannibal pulled him to his arms again. Will snorted, but the truth was, he wasn’t annoyed, he was actually amused.

“You just want to play with her, don’t you?”

“No…” Hannibal said, but he smiled immediately. “I just think she’s an interesting young woman. And I’d like to help her with her dissertation about me.”

“You find her interesting from one single encounter…?” Will asked him, raising his eyebrows.

Hannibal moved closer, putting his cheek against Will’s, and he whispered by his ear.

“It only took me a second to find _you_ interesting.”

Will pulled back slowly, letting his lips graze Hannibal’s with the movement, and then he noticed that they were still, not moving anymore. He kissed him, unable to stand being so close to him without touching him, and he wrapped his arms around his neck, the song in the radio long forgotten. When they pulled back, Hannibal made another sort of bow and kissed Will’s hand briefly.

“I’m going to take a shower, and we’ll make dinner afterwards, okay?”

Will nodded, and Hannibal started circling him to go to the bedroom, but then he remembered what he had thought that very same morning, and he turned around, grabbing his arm.

“Wait! Let me shower first,” he said, and Hannibal grinned at him, putting a hand on his hip.

“Well, we could-“

Will felt his body reacting in anticipation to his offer, his imagination already working at full speed, but he reluctantly took a step back, letting Hannibal’s arm go.

“Not this time… Let me go first, okay?”

Hannibal’s smile shrank, but he still nodded and pointed towards the bedroom.

“Of course.”

Will thanked him, closing his mind a little so Hannibal couldn’t know the real reason for his odd request, and he went to the bathroom. He showered as quickly as he could, and when he went out, he told Hannibal to take as much time as he wanted, to which he raised his eyebrows, probably wondering what was he up to. Will waited in the bedroom until he heard the shower’s water running, and then he went quickly outside. He started moving the armchairs to a corner of the room, and then he made several trips from the bedroom to the living room until he had moved everything he needed, and he laid everything exactly as he had imagined.

When Hannibal came out of the bedroom with his hair still a little wet and the sweater he was planning on putting on in his hand, he petrified when he saw Will standing in the middle of the room, smiling.

Hannibal looked from Will to the space between the couch and the fireplace and examined everything: the cushions perfectly lay over the rug, the candles placed around it and being the only source of light along with the fireplace…

“I thought that… Since it’s our last night here…” Will said when Hannibal finally looked back at him.

He felt a little uneasy when Hannibal didn’t react at first, a blank expression in his face. He finally moved, taking a few slow steps towards Will with the sweater still in his hand.

“You’ve done all this while I was in the shower?” he asked, even though the answer was evident.

“Yes,” Will replied, shrugging a little.

“Is this like a date…?”

Will wasn’t sure if he was amused or bothered at him for taking his idea, so he extended his mind towards him. But all he sensed was that Hannibal was confused, along with Will’s own nervousness, so he cleared his throat and went to the table, where he had a bottle of wine and two glasses ready. He filled the glasses and got back to Hannibal, who was following each and every of his steps with his gaze.

“It’s not- Well… If you want to call it a date, I guess?” he said, and he smiled nervously. “I just thought that we could eat dinner, and then maybe… relax there?” he said, nodding towards the cushions. “We are leaving tomorrow, so we might as well enjoy our last night here.”

Hannibal finally took the glass he was offering him, and he looked at the wine for a second before looking at him again. And then, he grabbed him by the waist and pulled him closer, kissing him. Will relaxed against his lips, finally understanding what Hannibal was really feeling: he _was_ confused, but not because he hadn’t liked Will’s surprise, but because he couldn’t believe it.

“You prepared all of this… for me,” Hannibal said in a whisper when he pulled back, and he finally smiled a little.

“Of course I did,” Will said, furrowing his brow a little but smiling too. “So… what do you want for dinner?”

Hannibal moved a little backwards and drank his glass of wine in big gulps. It was the first time Will had seen him drinking wine in anything that weren’t short sips to savor and enjoy it, so he observed him with his eyes widened and open-mouthed. When he finished, he took his glass to the table and left his sweater too on the back of a chair, and then came back to Will.

“Maybe we could leave dinner for later…”

Will tried to say something, but the only thing that he could do was laugh once and nod in agreement. He sipped once from his own glass of wine and then he made a gesture to leave it, but Hannibal took it from his hands and left it beside his own. And when he turned to him again, he didn’t have time to do anything else before Hannibal collided into him. He pushed Will’s body with his own backwards while he devoured him in a hungry kiss. When Will hit the wall with his back, a moan escaped his throat even before Hannibal’s hands slipped beneath his sweater and trailed the shape of his side up to his ribs, as if he had been starved of his touch for days, weeks, a lifetime.

 _Hannibal thrust Will against the wall with his entire body, so desperate for his touch as if it was the first time they touched. And it wasn’t like they didn’t touch each other every day, not now that Will felt the same burning desire towards him, the same hunger for their contact as he did… But when Hannibal had seen everything Will had prepared, and everything_ for _him, it had been too much; the short space that separated them had suddenly turned unbearable. He needed to feel him, to touch him, and so he did. He let Will’s mouth and his lips descended in a path he already had memorized: from the cliff of his jaw down to the crook of his neck._

_He felt their combined arousals, surging as Will spread his legs to welcome Hannibal’s thigh at the same time that Will sank the fingers from his hands into his buttock and pulled him towards him. The friction made them both moan, and Hannibal had to lean his forehead on Will’s shoulder for a second to catch his breath. When he could pull back a little to meet his eyes, he grinned at him, their hot breaths merging between them, and then he gave him a quick kiss and started kneeling in front of him. Hannibal pulled Will’s sweater upwards and started kissing the lower part of his belly. He heard Will whispering something that sounded like a curse, and Hannibal smiled while he stuck his tongue out to draw the line of his scar. He then put his thumbs between the elastic of his pants and his hips, and when he started pulling downwards he felt Will’s fingers slipping through his hair, grabbing it. Hannibal felt then how turned on Will was; the erection was evident, but through the connection he felt a wave of heat washing over them both, making it difficult to take it slow. Hannibal groaned unwittingly, and when he was about to pull the pants completely down, he felt Will’s grip tightening._

_“Ha- Hannibal, stop…” he said, his voice husky and thick._

_He obeyed and stopped the movement reluctantly, since he could feel Will’s cock throbbing, aching for his touch. He pulled back a little without taking his hands off of Will’s hips and raised his head with heavy eyelids, and he licked his lips deliberately._

_“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, even though he knew it wasn’t that; he would’ve felt it._

_“Oh god, no…” Will said, but he moved the hand that had been grabbing his hair to his shoulder, and he gestured him to get up, so he finally did._

_When they were eye to eye, Hannibal had to restraint himself not to kiss him again, but he let his eyes linger in his flushed cheeks and red lips._

_“Hannibal, I… I want more._ Now _.”_

 _Hannibal looked at his eyes again, and for a moment he stayed still, trying to understand what he meant. But he quickly saw it in Will’s mind, and he felt his heart skipping a beat. He truly wanted_ more _._

_Hannibal observed Will for a second, and he sensed that he was partly scared about what he was suggesting, but above all, excited and eager. So he couldn’t help to lean in and kiss him again, that time much slower than before but equally hungrily. But when he looked at him again, he bit his lower lip and his nose twitched in advance of what he was about to say._

_“As_ much _as I’d love that… I’m afraid we’re not appropriately equipped to do this here and now…” he said, caressing Will’s cheek with a hand._

_Will cupped Hannibal’s hand with his own, and then, much to his surprise, he gave him a wolfish grin, tilting his head a little._

_“Actually…”_

_Will then gently pushed Hannibal to be able to move away from the wall, and when he let him go, he observed astonished how Will walked towards the bedroom. Hannibal kept looking at the door during the time he was gone, and when he finally returned to the living room, he went to him with a shy smile. Hannibal didn’t notice that he was carrying something in a hand until he was right beside him and he looked down, offering it to him. Hannibal took it and then looked back at Will._

_“How… When?” Hannibal asked, trying to reconcile what he had in his hands with the idea of Will before everything that had led them to that moment._

_“I… I put them in my bag, just in case,” Will said, and he bit his lower lip, so Hannibal took a step towards him to encourage him to keep talking. “When I still told myself that I wouldn’t go with you, that I would only come here to see you, I bought that, and… It’s stupid, I know, but…”_

 

Will looked down again at the two things he had retrieved from his duffel bag, where he had packed them; a box of condoms and a jar of lube. He remembered again when he had bought them, how he had blocked Hannibal so he wouldn’t visit him through the connection, and the moment when he had given them to the cashier in the 24-hour pharmacy. The old man couldn’t have cared less about him or what he was buying, but Will still had blushed violently when he was paying.

Hannibal put a finger under his chin and made him look up, making him return to reality.

“Every time I think I am beginning to grasp you entirely, you manage you surprise me once more.”

Will smiled then and, encouraged by his words, he stood on tiptoe, wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s neck and kissed him as slowly as he could. But he was, as he had told Hannibal, eager for _more_ , so he pulled back after biting his lower lip a little, took Hannibal’s free hand and led him to the cushions with his heart pounding in his ears. He took his shoes off and then Will knelt and took Hannibal’s shoes himself, leaving them beside his own. After that, he crawled over the cushions and sat on his heels in front of the fireplace, and Hannibal followed him, sitting opposite him in the exact same position.

Hannibal left aside what Will had given him, and when he turned to him, Will was the first to move. He grabbed Hannibal’s sweater with shaky hands and took it off, and when it was Hannibal’s turn to undress him, he stayed still, moving only to help him with the sleeves. Hannibal then leaned towards Will, placing his hands on his skin as if he hadn’t just been touching him a couple of minutes back, his fingers sliding from his ribs to his back, caressing every bit of skin as if he was memorizing it. Will gasped and closed his eyes as Hannibal bent to his right shoulder and pressed his lips over the scar that Tobias Budge had left on him. Will wrapped his own arms around Hannibal, feeling every single muscle on the man’s back flexing with his movements.

He felt Hannibal holding him tighter against his chest and pushing him backwards, and he let him move him until he was lying on his back on top of the cushions. Hannibal pulled back then to look at him, and Will smiled at him, running a hand through his arm up to his right shoulder, where he let his fingertips linger over the two scars on his back. Hannibal smiled too, and then he looked at their side, where he had left both things.

“Are you sure? There is no rush at all, Will…” Hannibal asked him then.

Will felt a new wave of pleasure firing him up, because he could not believe how careful Hannibal was around him, so he chuckled.

“I _am_ sure, believe me.”

He grabbed his neck to pull him towards him to be able to kiss him again, hotter and deeper. Hannibal moaned against him, and Will arched his back because he needed to touch him, to feel him in every single part of his body.

When he felt like he couldn’t wait any longer, he pushed Hannibal and sat up again, and he didn’t hesitate when he reached for Hannibal’s pants. He untied the laces and then looked at him and the other moved exactly as he wanted so he would be able to take them off.

_Hannibal helped Will take his pants off, and then he did the same with Will’s while he was unable to keep his lips away from his skin. When he had to pull back to toss Will’s clothes aside, he took a second to admire him; panting and almost moaning with every breath, so urgent and in need of his touch, with his damp curls from the sweat dangling on his forehead, and his eyes reflecting the same hunger as Hannibal’s probably did. He saw too how hard he was, so he reached for the box of condoms._

_“Do you want to-?”_

_“No, no…” Will quickly said, putting both hands on Hannibal’s thighs and making him being too aware of every single one of his fingers. “You first. I want you inside me, Hannibal.”_

_Hannibal grinned, and so he took one of them and put it on under Will’s watchful eye. When he looked at him again, Will ran his tongue over his lower lip._

_“Do you… Do you want me to lie on my stomach?” Will asked him in between heavy breaths, and Hannibal shook his head._

_Will pulled him closer again putting a hand on his neck, his thumb caressing his cheek._

_“No… I want to look at you,” Hannibal said in a low voice, and he saw a spark flickering in Will’s eyes._

 

Will felt his chest tightening when Hannibal kissed him again, their combined feelings being almost too much. When he met his eyes again, Will crawled backwards over the cushions, and then he lay down on his back once again. Hannibal quickly crawled over him, standing between his legs. He took both of his thighs to spread his legs and Will gasped at how sensitive he was, every touch of Hannibal sending a wave of pleasure right to his stomach and below. Hannibal made him bend his knees, and then Hannibal carefully bent down between them. He saw Hannibal taking another cushion, and when he understood what he wanted to do, Will pulled his hips upwards with his help and he put the cushion behind his back. Then, he moved again and took the lube with a hand. Will observed everything he did, and when Hannibal poured some of it in his hand and looked at him again, asking for permission, he quickly nodded, feeling his heart hammering inside his chest. He then felt Hannibal’s fingers in his butt, opening him up and then applying the strange substance. Will’s jaw tensed, and he fisted the cushions at his sides, waiting for the pain. Hannibal bent down towards him, and he kissed him, making him relax again with his touch. And then, he felt his fingers, massaging his opening with the lube. Will moved a hand to Hannibal’s nape and gasped against his lips, but not because it hurt. Hannibal was taking everything so slowly, so gently, that when he felt one of his fingers finally sliding inside him, he let his head fall on the cushions. He heard himself breathing heavily and loudly while Hannibal massaged him carefully as he left a trail of kisses on his stomach. Will was tempted to lower one of his hands to his cock, since he was so hard it almost hurt, but he didn’t; he _needed_ to feel Hannibal entirely inside him, so he dug his fingers still in Hannibal’s nape and forced himself to open his eyes, to look at him between his spread legs. In that moment, Hannibal stuck his tongue out and drew a line from his groin up to his navel at the same time that he felt a second finger going inside him. Will breathed out in a moan that almost turned into a whimper, and Hannibal went to his mouth as if Will was calling him, and he tried to return his kisses while the other went deeper into him.

_Will let his head fall against the cushions again, so Hannibal slid the fingers from his free hand into his curls, caressing his neck with his lips. He kept penetrating him with his fingers, slowly opening him and letting him adjust to him even though Will was more than ready for him. Hannibal could feel his erection against his stomach, and he had to contain himself not to lower his hand and relieve him._

_Hannibal kept kissing and stroking him, but when he felt Will squirming and moaning at his every touch, he knew neither of them were going to be able to wait much longer, so he finally moved his fingers out of him, and Will opened his eyes to look at him._

_Hannibal was about to ask him if he was okay, even though he knew the answer, because he would’ve felt it the second he were in pain, but Will anticipated his question and nodded, loosening the tight on his nape. Hannibal applied more lube, and then he looked at him again. A little smile flickered on Will’s lips, and he just nodded again, so Hannibal took both of his knees and put them over his shoulders, adjusting his position._

_When Hannibal went slowly inside him, he heard himself groaning and Will dug his fingers again on his skin and one of the cushions, but didn’t look away from him._

_“Oh my god…” he muttered._

_“Are you-“_

_“I’m fine, I’m-“ Will said quickly, but he fell silent, his words stuck on his throat as Hannibal went deeper inside him._

_Will pulled him towards him again, and Hannibal moved slowly against him as they shared a wet and faltering kiss. When he pulled back, Hannibal’s whole body curving against him, he grabbed Will’s cock, wet with precum, and started moving his hand slowly, matching his thrusts._

_In that moment, Hannibal didn’t even have to expand his mind towards him. He could feel every single part of Will, both physically and mentally, and during those moments, while Hannibal was inside him, they were truly one, not a single barrier standing between them._

_They came together in an explosion that made them curl and tighten each other, the pleasure draining them from every last bit of energy and making them feel like they were floating, falling in an endless abyss in which they only needed to hold onto each other…_

Will felt his legs falling from Hannibal’s shoulders and to his sides. Hannibal moved to the side for a moment, probably taking the condom off, and then he returned to him and let himself fall on top of Will’s chest. For a few minutes, neither of them moved, the amount of feelings that crowded inside them preventing them to do anything else than to breathe and feel each other. Will raised his arms and wrapped them around Hannibal’s back when he could move, although even his arms felt strange, almost like they were somebody else’s after having felt like Hannibal and him were one. But in that moment, Will trembled, and it took him a couple of seconds to realize that he was chucking. Will was laughing, because above everything else, he felt an immense and blinding bliss.

Hannibal finally raised his head, smiling at his reaction, and he craned his neck to be able to reach his lips. But he didn’t kiss him right away; he paused with their lips grazing each other’s, and he looked at him one last time. Will knew then that he felt exactly as him: ecstatic and unable to process everything they were feeling. So Will moved a hand to his nape and pulled Hannibal to him to finally kiss him, his tongue welcoming Hannibal’s and his lips moving against them as if they had been made exactly for that purpose. He pushed him to roll over and put himself on top of him, wrapping Hannibal with his legs, with his arms, with his entire body. When he pulled back to catch his breath again, Will bit Hannibal’s lower lip carefully, and then his chin, and he laughed again against him. Hannibal put an arm under his head to be able to raise it a little, and he caressed Will’s cheek with his other hand.

“What do you think about that dinner that you owe me?” Hannibal asked him then, his voice hoarse.

Will gave him a sly smile, and he let his lips linger over his.

“Are you already tired…?” Will asked him, teasing him.

Hannibal chuckled and then pushed him to roll over him again.

“I didn’t say we were finished…” he said, running a finger down his neck. “Just a little pause to eat something.”

Will grinned, and then they kissed again.

That night was going to be their last night in the cabin, but neither Will nor Hannibal had any intention on getting much sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first things first!
> 
> \- I finally published the Sensates fanmix! You can find the list of songs and art [here](http://starkaryen.tumblr.com/post/137706426589/sensates-willhannibal-fanmix-for-this-fanfic) on my tumblr, and listen to it [here](http://8tracks.com/starkaryen/sensates) on 8tracks :3  
> \- I also published another Hannigram fanfic, post-s3. In case you're interested: [I will not be afraid of your scars](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5721382).
> 
> Apart from that, there's not much else to say. Well, yes! The fic has now more than 10k hits, and when I saw it the other day I was SO happy! Thank you again to everyone who's reading and supporting this<3  
> I'm not sure when the next chapter will be published, since I'm beginning now my exams, but I hope it doesn't take me longer than two weeks, as it took me to publish this chapter.
> 
> Also, there are no songs in this chapter :)


	20. Twenty

Will left the box he had been carrying in the trunk with a grunt, and then he turned around trying to suppress a yawn and failing miserably. Hannibal appeared beside him carrying a small box too, and he couldn’t help but notice the smirk on his lips while he bent down.

“What are you smiling at? This is _your_ fault,” Will said, raising en eyebrow.

Hannibal turned around with an innocent expression in his face.

“I beg to differ, I recall _you_ being the one who thought we didn’t need as much sleep.”

Will started turning around to go back to the house, but Hannibal caught his wrist and pulled him until their bodies collided. Will shook his head, pretending to be annoyed, but Hannibal just smiled and tipped his head to press a kiss on Will’s neck. That sent a wave of pleasure down his body that made his skin prickle, and he knew Hannibal would sense it.

“Well, now whose fault is this…?” Will tried to say in a normal voice, but his breathing came out ragged, and he felt Hannibal chuckling against him.

Will trailed his back with a hand while Hannibal pulled back, and he smiled at the feeling of the fabric. Hannibal was wearing his suit, since he wanted to be _elegant_ for their dinner. But then Will thought of something, so he moved his mouth closer to Hannibal’s ear and grinned in anticipation.

“I know it’s the only suit we bought, but somehow the only thing I can think of when I see you in it, is when I undressed you the other day... and how your mouth felt on me…”

Will tried to sound as flirtatious as he could, and then _he_ felt Hannibal’s arousal. Will pulled back with a satisfied smile on his lips, and went inside, leaving Hannibal standing there trying to collect himself.

They finished loading everything in the rental car, and then checked the cabin in case they were forgetting something. When they went out, Will looked inside one last time, at the now empty fireplace, the couch, covered with a white sheet, the drawn curtains... Will realized he felt a little sad about leaving the cabin. He had meant it when he had told Hannibal that he wouldn’t miss his house, but that place had already given him many memories in so little time.

“This place will always be ours to come back any time we desire to,” Hannibal whispered beside him, guessing his thoughts.

“In our mind palace,” Will said, knowing what he meant.

He smiled, knowing that to be true. Even if they never came back, they would certainly visit the place in their minds. Will turned to him and nodded, so Hannibal closed the door carefully and then hid the key right where it had been when they had gone there for the first time.

Will went to the driver’s seat, and Hannibal went to the passenger, and after looking at him one last time and receiving a warm smile from Hannibal, he started the car and began driving for the first time in almost two months.

When they left the deepest part of the forest behind, Will turned the radio on and then changed it to the classical music station. Hannibal smiled and leaned in a little closer to him in his seat.

“Acquired taste, darling?”

Will laughed, and then shrugged without taking his eyes off of the winding road.

“Maybe… You came to like Johnny Cash, even if you don’t want to admit it,” Will said.

“I’ll admit it under torture,” he joked.

“Is that an invitation?” Will asked, raising an eyebrow.

Will saw Hannibal’s smile broadening out of the corner of his eye.

“Perhaps we could go to the opera once we’re in Europe. I could finally show you the intense beauty of it,” Hannibal said, probably remembering that Will had once told him he had never gone.

“Okay, let’s not push it,” Will said, but he smiled at the thought, and Hannibal’s warmth reached him through the connection.

They stayed clear of the main roads so as to avoid any possible police controls, and they went first to Wolf Trap, as they had discussed the day before when they had gone through their plan once again. Will entered the road that led to his house with his heart hammering inside his chest, expecting to see a dozen police cars parked in front of the house. But as Hannibal had predicted, there wasn’t anything, not even a yellow tape in front of his door. That was good, because it meant that they had the chance to do what they had gone to do. But it also threw off Will a little, because it also meant that Jack and the rest of the FBI were still clinging to the version of the story they wanted to tell themselves. Probably, that he would turn up dead at some point.

Will parked the car and they went out. When he opened the door, he stood under the threshold, unable to enter. It seemed like another place, a stranger’s house without the dogs barking and trying to climb him as soon as he had opened the door. But not only that; it was really strange being there now, after everything that had happened. The last time he had been in that house he was different. Or at least, he hadn’t realized himself truly yet.

He felt Hannibal’s hand in his lower back, and he turned to look at him. Will smiled a little, and finally gathered the strength to step inside. Aside from the dust, he noticed how the dogs’ beds, bowls and toys were gone. But apart from that, everything was exactly as he had left it. He went to his bedroom and started packing his clothes, which was the main reason why they were there. It wasn’t a priority, since they could buy some once they were settled somewhere, but Will had been surviving in the cabin with the few change of clothes he had packed in the duffel bag and stealing some things from Hannibal. So he took a few more things, and then he changed into his most decent pants and the pale red shirt he had bought when he had been in the mall with Abigail, remembering how Hannibal had looked at him when he had worn it.

When he went to the living room with the new bag packed, he saw Hannibal standing in the kitchen in front of the counter. That made him go back to the countless mornings he had gone out of his room to find Hannibal exactly there, only he usually had been cooking. But at the same time, Will watched him very still, as if he had a wild animal in front of him and didn’t want to startle him, because that was the first time the man _was_ there physically. Hannibal raised his hand and touched the counter, slowly grazing the surface, and Will knew Hannibal was having the same realization. He _sensed_ how overwhelmed Hannibal was in that moment, being _truly_ in Will’s house for the first and last time, after having spent so much time there thanks to the connection they shared.

In that moment, Hannibal noticed his presence, and Will smiled at him when he turned to him.

“Are you finished?” Hannibal asked him, stepping away from the kitchen and going to him.

“I think so. Feeling nostalgic?” Will asked when he was before him.

Hannibal smiled too. He seemed to notice the shirt, since he put a hand on Will’s chest and he let it slide down to his waist, and then he pulled him closer in a gentle pull.

“I think I _will_ miss this house. After all, we more or less lived here together,” Hannibal confessed, sliding his hand to Will’s back.

“That’s true…”

Will dropped his bag on the floor and wrapped both arms around him to hug him, tucking his head on the crook of his neck as Hannibal embraced him back. Will looked over his shoulder to the living room, and he remembered the many days, weeks, months spent there with him. He remembered how mad he had been at him when he had thought he was a hallucination, and how _angry_ he had felt afterwards when he finally accepted that he wasn’t. And he remembered too how he had fallen in love with him, slowly and inadvertently until the reality had hit him. He knew Hannibal would be sharing his memories through the connection, so when he pulled back, it didn’t surprise him to find his eyes watery.

“Shall we?” Hannibal asked him, running his thumb over Will’s cheek.

“Let’s go,” he said, nodding.

Hannibal took his bag from the floor and they left the house. When Will locked the door behind them, he looked at the key one last time before pocketing it. At least, he thought, he would keep it as a memento.

When they went into the car again, surrounded by the orange light of the sunset, Hannibal took something out of his jacket and Will couldn’t help a chuckle when he saw a Johnny Cash CD. He shook his head and leaned in to give him a quick kiss.

****

[Baltimore, Maryland]

Frederick Chilton arrived home well past dinnertime, as he had been doing lately. It had been yet another tedious afternoon with Jack Crawford and Alana Bloom, watching the surveillance footage they had from Will Graham’s visits in Hannibal’s cell. At first, he had been excited for being the one who was able to provide one of the few evidences on the strange case. But Jack had made them watch the tapes so many times, Frederick was starting to be able to quote most parts of the interview from memory. And it wasn’t like they were discovering anything new at all…

He went out of the rear seat of his car and walked to the door with the other three men surrounding him. Two of them went inside the house, and Frederick waited patiently with the remaining man as his escort detail checked that everything was in place, that there was no danger for him. When the guards didn’t come out as quickly as they usually did, he shifted in place, looked at his watch and cleared his throat, trying to conceal the creeping fear that was starting to seize him. He opened his mouth to say something the other guard, but in that moment the other two went out of the house, telling him that everything was clear. Frederick let out a sigh through his nose and walked through the door they were holding open for him. He thanked them and closed the door while the three men started to sit in the chairs where they would spend the night, chairs that Chilton himself had gladly provided the first night he had hired them.

He left his briefcase and keys beside the table, took his coat off and hanged it, and then he sighed again while he walked towards his bedroom. He threw his phone on the bed and sat on the edge, and undressed as the tension he had felt a minute before dissipated. Then, Frederick went into the big bathroom and took a long, hot shower until his skin was reddish and the entire bathroom was filled with steam. When he came out, he got dressed into more comfortable clothes and hanged the suit he had worn. And when he was finally done, he turned to take his phone, and he froze when he didn’t find it on top the bed. He thought that perhaps he had left it with his keys, and he went out with a frown, trying to remember exactly when he had had it the last time. But what he found when he left the hall that connected his bedroom with the rest of the rooms left him petrified.

“WHAT THE-!” he yelled, but then he realized _who_ was in front of him, and he squinted, unable to believe what he was seeing. “W- Will…? Will Graham?”

Because indeed, the man in front of him, in the hall of _his_ house, was the missing Will Graham. There was no way he could be mistaken. But the other man didn’t say anything; he just stood there, arms at his sides, staring at him.

“What- You’re alive. Oh god, you’re-. We thought you would be already dead,” he said, trying to focus his thoughts, and he took a step towards him, but then he was paralyzed again by another thought, and he tilted his head. “Wait, how did you… Did the guards let you in…?”

In another situation, Frederick would’ve realized how absurd that thought was, but in that moment it was the only possibility in his mind. That, somehow, the guards that he had hired to protect him from Hannibal Lecter, had let a man inside his house without telling him anything. That easy.

“No…” Will Graham said in a low voice.

In that moment, the FBI profiler’s eyes averted a little to his right, and Frederick thought that the smallest smirk appeared in his lips right before someone grabbed him from behind. He tried to fight against his captor at the same time that the panic invaded him, but he soon felt the prick of a needle in his neck. He felt his legs going soft, his arms falling to his sides while his vision blurred.

His last thought was that perhaps he had imagined the smile on Will Graham’s lips…

****

Hannibal reached out to take the bottle of white wine, and he poured it in the three glasses on the table. Will thanked him before taking the one in front of him by the stem and taking a sip from it. It was _really_ good, and he even closed his eyes for a second to savor it.

“Good, isn’t it?” Hannibal asked him, still standing beside his chair. He took the serving cutlery and started slicing a good portion of the meat.

“Very good.”

“Dr. Chilton has a fine taste for wine, I’ll give him that.”

Will left his glass on the table and moved his hand away when Hannibal started serving him in his plate.

In that moment, the third person sitting at the table inhaled deeply through his nose and raised his head. Or rather, he tried to. He opened his eyes and tipped his head aside to be able to raise his gaze.

“Oh, good. So kind of you to join us, Frederick,” Hannibal said, leaving the cutlery on the tray with the rest of the food after having served himself and the third plate.

“What…?” Chilton started saying, but he stopped, probably feeling his tongue and brain working at two different paces.

Chilton groaned, and he then tried to move his arms, only to discover that he was immobilized.

“Almost forgot,” Hannibal said, taking a step towards him.

Chilton groaned again, probably not very pleased with the idea of Hannibal getting closer to him, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. Hannibal worked the straps that were holding Chilton’s arms against the chair until he was free, but he was still bound by the chest and stomach, and those straps were behind the chair, so there was no way he would untie himself. Especially in the state he was, with the mix of his own drugs that Hannibal had administered to him still in his system.

“There you go. Now you’ll be able to join us for dinner.”

Hannibal gave Chilton a little smile, and then he undid the button on the jacket of his suit before sitting at the head of the table. Will was at his right, and in front of Will and at Hannibal’s left was Chilton, who looked directly at him in that moment, beginning to fully understand his situation.

“You… What did you…?” he began asking, his tongue still slack and his voice thick. He swallowed once and moved a hand a little. “How did you…”

“I’m sorry Frederick, I’m afraid you’ll have to speak more clearly.”

Will had to contain a smile, because he could feel Hannibal’s amusement through the connection. And, being honest, maybe he was enjoying himself a little too, after having seen that man behaving like a complete asshole.

Hannibal then looked at Will and gave him a smile, but a completely different one. That was a smile he only gave to Will, _his_ smile.

“Shall we begin, Will?” he asked, looking to the food.

“Yes,” Will said, nodding and taking his fork.

They took a slice of the meat and then tasted it. Hannibal had cooked in Chilton’s kitchen with his help, and he had been _so_ happy to be back in a kitchen. Hannibal had been cooking in Will’s house through the connection, but even though he had been quite content about it, Will was aware that his kitchen in Wolf Trap couldn’t be compared to the one Hannibal had had, or the one they had found in Chilton’s house.

“The guards…” Chilton mumbled then. “The change will… They will come shortly.”

They looked at him at the same time, and Hannibal cocked his head to the side.

“Don’t worry about that now, Frederick. We spoke to your detail and they kindly informed us that the next change is due in the morning, so we still have many hours ahead to enjoy dinner and have a conversation between old friends.”

Will saw the fear in Chilton’s eyes, realizing that his lie hadn’t worked. And also, probably picturing in his mind what could’ve happened to the guards.

“Will…” Chilton said then, turning his attention to him.

The name on his lips startled him a little. He had already seen him when Will had acted as bait, but for some reason, after seeing him talking to Hannibal, he hadn’t expected Chilton to speak directly to him. And then he noticed why: it was the first time, apart from Buffalo Bill, that someone saw both of them together, at the same time. He had ended up being so used to people only seeing one of them, that it took him a second to register that detail.

“Will, I don’t know what he did… to you,” he started saying, clearing his throat, as if the drugs would clear faster that way. “But please…”

“He didn’t do anything to me,” Will said drily, a flash of anger shooting through him for a second.

Will looked at Hannibal again and he was smiling at him in the adoring way that Will was still trying to get used to. The one that always made his heart skip a beat, no matter what.

Frederick Chilton furrowed his brow, and then the realization washed over his expression. He blinked a couple of times, and his eyes went from Will to Hannibal, who had turned to him visibly pleased at the exchange, and then back to Will.

“You two… You knew each other, didn’t you? From before… It’s the only thing that makes sense… but how?” he started saying, having a monologue with himself. His eyes widened even more than before. “That’s why you wanted to consult with him, why you went to look for him when he escaped. Why you two ended up in Buffalo Bill’s house… Oh, god.”

Hannibal took his glass of wine and took a sip from it, and when he left it back on the table, he pointed at the plate before Chilton.

“Frederick, you should start eating before it gets cold.”

Hannibal’s invitation seemed to remind Chilton to try to move his hands again, and he did. That time, he raised his right arm with difficulty and then he dropped it on top of the table. Once it was there, he pushed the plate a little.

“I’m not eating anything…” Chilton said, his forehead beaded with sweat from the exertion.

“Eat, Frederick. You wouldn’t want us to take the matter into our own hands, would you?” Hannibal asked him, and Will recognized that it was something Chilton had said to Hannibal when he was in the Hospital.

Chilton’s lips trembled, considering his options, and then he took his fork. He stabbed a couple of vegetables, avoiding the meat completely, and then started taking the fork to his mouth, his entire arm trembling. But he hadn’t raised it even at eye level when his arm fell again on the table, the fork clattering against the plate.

“Yes, maybe it would be wise for you to wait a little longer,” Hannibal said, as if he hadn’t been the one who had made him try that. “After all, we wouldn’t want you to choke with a broccoli, would we?”

Will couldn’t help the corners of his mouth to go up, so he hid his mouth behind the glass of wine.

“Why the fuck…”

“Language, Doctor,” Hannibal said, and Will smiled again while he swallowed. Hannibal had never reprimanded _him_ for swearing. “You have guests at your dinner table, you should be more polite.”

“Why are you… prolonging it, huh?” Chilton asked, ignoring him, and he tried to move, craning his neck a little but nothing more.

Hannibal turned to Will once again, and he raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“Hannibal,” Chilton said again, and his voice was completely changed, the rage gone and only the fear remaining. “Please.”

Will took a bite from the meat and chewed it slowly, and he had to contain the need to shake his head. So many years observing The Chesapeake Ripper, and he still knew so little of him.

“Please what, Frederick?” Hannibal asked, tilting his head.

Chilton squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and then he turned to Will again.

“Please. Even if you… Will, please. Don’t kill me.”

Will raised his eyebrows and looked at Hannibal, who shrugged.

“Will, I believe our host here thinks that he knows how the night is going to end.”

“That’s taking a wild guess, to say the least,” Will said, following his lead.

Chilton groaned again, Will wasn’t sure if it was due to his attempts at moving, or at their exchange.

“Please!” Chilton said again, and it almost startled Will. “I’ll do anything you want, I’ll… I’ll help you! But _please_...”

“Help us…?” Hannibal repeated, and then he left his fork on the table, and he turned a little to him after wiping his mouth with the napkin. “Tell me, Frederick, how would _you_ help _us_?”  
“I… I don’t know, I… I’ll get you plane tickets to anywhere you want!” he said, trying to lean forwards, although the straps didn’t allow him to move very much.

Hannibal nodded, as if he was impressed, and turned to Will again.

“What do you think, Will…? Should we finish this here and now, or should we return some other time in the future, collect the rest of our dinner?”

Will took another sip from the wine, pretending to be considering it, but Chilton furrowed his brow and looked from Hannibal to Will.

“The- the rest of the dinner…?” he asked, and his lower lip trembled.

“I think maybe we _should_ leave something for another time,” Will said, ignoring the other’s question. “It would be a shame if this dinner ended so quickly.”

Chilton focused then for the first time on the table, on the meal in the tray; a long piece of meat with only a few slices cut from it. And Will saw the exact second in which Chilton finally _realized_ it. He flinched, and very slowly, either because of the drugs or because he really didn’t want to accept it, he looked down at his lap. He raised a hand with difficulty and moved the tablecloth away… And then he screamed when he saw his severed leg.

“Frederick, please,” Hannibal said while the other tried to break free from the chair in weak attempts.

“What did you- Oh my god, oh god…” he kept repeating.

Hannibal looked at Will, who was clenching his jaw. He was trying not to let Chilton’s screams get to him, but it was hard focusing on anything else. But then, Hannibal reached out to him and put his hand on top of Will’s, so he let his mind expand to him. He let Hannibal wrap his hand and his mind completely, and so he loosened the grip on his fork, relaxed the tension on the muscles of his shoulders…

“Why... Why did…” Chilton kept trying to say. Hannibal, once he was sure that Will was okay, turned abruptly to him.

“You know perfectly well why, Frederick.”

The man finally stopped screaming, looking at them with a terrified expression.

“Please…”

“Shut… up,” Will said in a low, but firm voice.

Chilton did so, and looked at him with widened eyes. Will rose to his feet and went to the other’s chair circling the table. When he approached him, Chilton seemed to shrink in his seat. Will put a hand on the back of the chair and bent over so they were at eye level.

“Don’t be such a hypocrite, _Doctor_. You fucking know _why_ , and I doubt that you’re even the slightest surprised about this,” he said, and he felt something reaching him from Hannibal through the connection, but he was focused on Chilton. He pushed the chair a little so Chilton would look at him again, since he had began to close his eyes. “Now, I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen. You’re not going to die tonight, but you will one day. It doesn’t matter where you go, how much you try to hide or how many escorts you hire. And whether it’s in a week, a month, or ten years, you will _never_ know, but rest assured… We _will_ come.”

When Will stood up, he looked at Hannibal, still sitting in his chair. And then he realized that what he had felt through the connection was the pride Hannibal was feeling for him. Will met his eyes and got lost in him for a moment, reveled in the feeling that was flowing from Hannibal and towards him like a torrent, completely washing over him. When they finally remembered where they were, Will blinked and returned to his seat while Hannibal looked at Chilton once again.

“Well… I don’t think I have anything else to add.”

Hannibal stood up from the chair, and he turned to the small table behind them, where he had left everything he had used before.

“I don’t think you’re going to eat your dinner now, are you, Frederick?” he asked him while he did something Chilton couldn’t see.

“N-No,” he said, unsure if that was the right answer or not.

“Very well. In that case…”

Hannibal turned around with a needle in his hand, and Chilton started shaking his head while he tried to break free once again, fighting against the drugs that still flooded his system, and the straps that held him against the chair. Hannibal easily ignored his attempts and stuck the needle in his neck. Chilton was unconscious in seconds.

When they finished having dinner, they went to the kitchen and started doing the dishes, Hannibal washing them and Will drying them. Will looked at him while he rubbed one of the plates with the rag; Hannibal had taken the jacket of his suit off, and he had rolled up the sleeves of the shirt so as to not soak them. He had been silent since they had gone into the kitchen, so Will expanded his mind towards him, and he felt that Hannibal was, in fact, completely calm.

“Are you all right?” Hannibal asked him all of the sudden, not even having to look at him.

His voice startled him a little, but Will snorted at himself and left the dried plate with the rest. Hannibal closed the faucet and took the kitchen rag from Will’s hands to dry himself the last glass, so Will stepped aside, leaning his lower back against the counter.

“I… I’m fine,” Will said, answering his question after a few seconds.

Hannibal turned around drying his own hands, and he raised his eyebrows a little, knowing he was lying. Or, at least, that he wasn’t telling him the whole truth. Will sighed and bit his lower lip.

“Will,” Hannibal said, and Will nodded, knowing what he was going to say; that he, _of course_ , could tell him anything.

“I just… Should I feel different?”

Hannibal folded the rag in a perfect square, left it on the counter and took a step towards him.

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. I feel… I feel _fine_ ,” Will said, frowning. “Shouldn’t I feel at least a little wrong?”

“Because of what we’ve done to Dr. Chilton?”

“Yes…”

“We didn’t even kill him,” Hannibal said, as if it wasn’t clear, and Will chuckled, running a hand over his jaw.

“Yeah, what we’ve done to him is even worse, in a way.”

“Didn’t he deserve it?”

Will looked at him, and then he reached out and grabbed Hannibal’s wrist to pull him a little closer.

“The thing is… Whether he deserved it or not, that’s not the point. I _wanted_ to do it, and it felt…” he said, but he paused, so Hannibal tilted his head a little to draw his gaze again.

“What, Will?”

“I felt powerful. It felt… _right_.”

Hannibal cupped his face then with both hands, and Will saw a million things in his eyes; pride, his intense love, delight at his words…

“My dear Will… Do you remember when I asked you if you craved change?” he asked, and Will nodded while Hannibal smiled a little, remembering that moment in the Baltimore State Hospital. “I don’t think change was the right word, because you didn’t have to transform into anything else, Will. _This_ is what you’ve always been, what I always knew you would be. And whatever you feel… it will always be okay.”

Will looked at him for a moment, and a smile tugged at his lips before he was even aware of it. He trailed his hands up his shirt and grabbed Hannibal’s tie only to carefully pull him even closer and finally kiss him. Will opened his lips to him when he felt the curve of Hannibal’s body against his own, and the other slid his tongue inside his mouth while he grabbed Will’s hair with a hand, pulling a little. Will heard the other moaning first, and when Hannibal thrust him with his body against the counter, Will had to break the contact to breathe while he felt his entire body setting alight. Hannibal dragged his hands down Will’s back and to his waist while he left a trail of kisses from his jaw to his ear.

“Shit, Hannibal,” Will said, a shiver running down his entire body.

Will then grabbed the counter and hopped on it. He spread his legs to make room for Hannibal and he grabbed his tie again to pull towards him, returning to Hannibal’s lips as a moan escaped through Will’s. He kissed, licked and nibbled at his mouth, and he then slid a hand between their bodies, reaching Hannibal’s crotch. In that moment, Hannibal pulled back a little, so it was Will’s turn to draw a path of kisses down his neck, grabbing and pulling from his tie again, refusing to let him go.

“Will,” Hannibal said then, his voice hoarse in between uneven breathings. “This may not the time or place for this…”

“There’s still time until the detail change,” Will said against Hannibal’s skin.

He could feel Hannibal’s arousal through the connection, but his hands stopped roaming Will’s body, and Hannibal put his palms flat on top of the counter, next to Will’s thighs.

“As _much_ as I’d like to do this now… we still have many things to do.”

Will groaned in protest, but he pulled back with a grimace, knowing he was right. He suddenly became aware of _where_ they were, and that, indeed, they still had many things left to do.

“I hate it when you’re the voice of reason…”

Hannibal chuckled, and he tipped his head to press a much more gentle kiss on his lips.

“No, you don’t,” Hannibal said, very close to his mouth.

Hannibal moved back, and Will had to let his tie go reluctantly. He jumped down from the counter, they both rearranged their clothes, and then Hannibal took his hand to lead him out of the kitchen.

They cleaned everything they had touched or used, not because they didn’t want the police to know they had been there, since they actually had _made_ sure they would know: they had Chilton, and they had the tied and drugged guards that they had _gently_ questioned before going into the house, one of which had preferred to answer their questions instead of ending up being ‘breakfast’, as Hannibal had suggested. Will observed Hannibal while they were cleaning everything, and he remembered the numerous times he had read about The Chesapeake Ripper. They had _never_ found any DNA or samples of anything in any of his crime scenes, and now they were doing exactly the same… Except now Will was on the other side, with him.

When they had finished everything, they moved Chilton to his bedroom, and they set the table again; the meat they hadn’t eaten would be the first thing anyone would see when entering Frederick Chilton’s living room. Will was observing their creation when he felt Hannibal beside him.

“Shall we, my dear?”

Will looked at him, who was offering him the jacket Will had taken off before dinner. Hannibal had already put his own jacket on, so Will smiled and turned around so he would slide it on to his shoulders. When he did, Hannibal put his hands on Will’s arms and trailed the sleeves down slowly, and then he slid his fingers to his sides and into his belly. Will closed his eyes and leaned back until his back was against the other’s chest, and then he felt Hannibal’s hands stopping in the place where Will’s scar was in his stomach.

“I thought this was not the time…” Will said in a low voice, tipping his head until his cheek was against Hannibal’s.

He felt Hannibal chuckling, and his embrace tightened a little.

“It’s a little difficult to avoid. You look so good in that shirt…”

Will smiled, still with his eyes closed, but he could smell the intoxicating scent of Hannibal, feel his love pouring out of him through the connection.

“I may have chosen it on purpose.”

“Hmm I know… How cunning of you,” he joked.

Will finally opened his eyes and looked one last time at the table before turning around in his arms to face him. Will ran a hand over Hannibal’s face, drawing the line of the scar on his cheekbone, and then he pressed their lips together in a brief kiss.

“Let’s go.”

They gathered everything and went out of Chilton’s house. The three drugged guards were lying in the lobby, exactly as they had left them after questioning them. Will took Hannibal’s hand and circled them to go to the outside.

****

_Their first stop after dinner at Frederick Chilton’s house was a 24-hour supermarket. They bought the supplies they thought they would need for their trip, since the food and gas they still had from the cabin might not have been enough. They paid in a self-checkout lane and went out before anyone had a chance of asking them if they needed anything. When they loaded the bags in the car, the sun was coming up from the east, and Hannibal took a second to look at how beautiful Will looked in the pale light of the dawn._

_They made the way to Alana’s house in silence, listening only to the low music on the radio. When they arrived, Will went by the front of the house, and they saw that Alana’s car wasn’t parked there. Still, Will drove the car a couple of streets away, where he parked it and they made their way back on foot. Once they got to the house, Will went to the front and Hannibal turned to go to the back without any words needed. He tried to look through the windows he walked by, but the curtains were drawn and the panes closed. When he got to the small garden in the back, he went to the door that he knew that led to the kitchen and tried it: closed, as well. Hannibal took from his pocket a couple of lock picks that he had taken from Frederick’s house, which had been a surprise to find. But right when he was about to try to unlock the door, he heard steps behind him muffled by the grass. Hannibal raised his head and inhaled, but he didn’t have to, because the sounds were now more than a simple person’s footsteps. He turned around putting the lock picks away, and he immediately smiled._

_“Who…?” she began asking, but she stopped altogether, the recognition changing her expression._

_“Hello, Abigail.”_

_Indeed, Abigail Hobbs was before him, but his eyes soon averted from her to the pack of dogs that were at her feet. Most of them were tied with multiple leashes, but in that moment they all tried to go to him, making it difficult for her to hold so many dogs in place. A couple of the dogs, however, weren’t tied, and they ran towards him in recognition. Hannibal bent over and patted Riley’s head, but he couldn’t help to pick the other dog up._

_“Hello, boy.”_

_Buster stayed still in his hands, only waving his little tail, content, so Hannibal smiled. He left the dog on the ground to turn his attention back to Abigail, and took a step towards her._

_“You’re… You’re_ him _…” she said then, her eyes widened and the dogs’ leashes tightly gripped in her hands._

_What made Hannibal smile weren’t her words, but her voice tone. He sensed a slight fear, but above all, he knew she was fascinated, intrigued. Hannibal cocked his head to the side, pleased. What a wonderful young woman she was._

_In that moment, he sensed Will approaching them, and so he turned to welcome him._

_“What’s going-?” he started asking, probably having felt something through their connection, but he stopped talking the second he saw them. “Abigail!”_

_Will’s face lit up as he walked by Hannibal and towards her, and Abigail immediately smiled, finally moving for the first time since she had seen Hannibal. Will had to avoid the dogs, who went crazy at the sight of Will, jumping and barking, and he finally hugged Abigail. She let go of the leashes to be able to embrace him too, but the dogs didn’t go anywhere once they were free._

_“I_ knew _you were alive, I knew it!” Abigail said while they hugged._

_Will pulled back and then he knelt to properly greet his dogs, petting as many of them at the same time as he could, since they had become a jumble of fur moving around him._

_Hannibal took a step towards them and Will then seemed to become aware of the situation. Hannibal had been in her presence before, but never to Abigail’s knowledge, so Will finally stood up and looked from one to the other._

_“Abigail, this is… ehm…”_

_“Will, I believe she is very much aware of who I am,” Hannibal said, and Abigail looked at him again, so he offered her his kindest smile._

_“I do,” Abigail said, and then she turned to Will with the hint of a smile on her lips. “He’s… He’s your_ friend _.”_

_Will looked at Hannibal with a poorly contained smile in his lips._

_“Yes, my… friend.”_

_Hannibal wondered what conversation between the two of them had he missed, since the look they shared in that moment suggested that Abigail knew very well that Hannibal was, in reality, much more than a friend to Will._

_But then Abigail’s smile was replaced by a worried expression._

_“What are you doing here, Will? Alana is at work, but she could come back, or a neighbor could see you…” Abigail said then, and Will raised his hand to calm her._

_“Don’t worry, we’re… we’re leaving.”_

_Abigail then pursed her lips and looked from the dogs to Will._

_“I don’t want you to go, but the police is looking for you too, aren’t they?”_

_“Yes,” Will said._

_Hannibal saw then her watery eyes, and he felt Will’s pain at the prospect of not seeing the girl again in a long time._

_“You killed… You_ both _killed that man, didn’t you? Buffalo Bill.”_

_Will nodded very slowly, and Hannibal watched Abigail intently, waiting for her response to the confession._

_“Good,” she said, and Hannibal smiled at the fire he saw in her eyes, if only for a moment._

_Will smiled too, and she looked down at the dogs, and then back at Will._

_“Are you going to take them with you?”_

_“We can’t take them all, but… We wanted to take Buster and Winston with us. If Alana and you can’t or don’t want to take care of the rest of them…” Will started saying, but Hannibal felt how much it pained him only to think about it, to think about his dogs being put on a shelter or separated into different families._

_“No!” Abigail said, and she knelt to touch the two dogs closest to her, as if to prove her point. “I will take care of them for you, Will. I promise.”_

_Will smiled, and then he went to Abigail and hugged her again, surrounded by the dogs. Hannibal made sure to capture that moment in his memory, glad that Will had been able to say goodbye to Abigail._

_When they pulled back, much to his surprise, Abigail looked at Hannibal and took a couple of steps towards him, and then she raised a hand, offering it to him. Hannibal wrapped his hand around hers, and he shook it carefully._

_“Thank you,” she said simply, and Hannibal’s smile broadened in his lips._

_“This is not goodbye, Abigail. We’ll see each other again.”_

_She nodded, and he let her hand go. Will helped Abigail take the dogs’ leashes again, and then he took Winston’s and Hannibal took Buster in his arms._

_“Alana…” Will started telling Abigail, but she shook her head._

_“Don’t worry. Winston and Buster ran away while I was walking them, I don’t know how it happened!” she said, pretending to be affected, so Will nodded and her expression changed again. “I will keep your secret, Will... Remember?”_

_Will smiled and Hannibal saw the memory, momentarily shared by the connection, of Will in the hospital and Abigail and him sharing those same words._

_“Thank you, Abigail.”_

_When they started walking towards the front of the house, Will went a couple of steps forwards with Winston, probably not wanting to turn around, but Hannibal did. He turned and looked one last time at Abigail, standing in the garden with the other five dogs around her, and she gave him a last smile._

_They came back to the car as quickly as they could, and once they were inside, Will let out a long breath and leaned backwards in the passenger’s seat. Hannibal put a hand over Will’s on his knee, and squeezed a little._

_“Are you all right?”_

_“Yeah, I am…” Will said, opening his eyes, and he smiled as if to prove it to him._

_Will leaned in to give him a quick kiss, and then Hannibal nodded and turned the car on._

****

Will was pulling from a rope when Hannibal appeared on the gangway, which trembled a little under his weight. When he jumped to the deck, Winston moved his tail beside Will to greet him, even though Hannibal had only been away for a few minutes. Will had taken the dogs to sail sometimes, but he had never been able to take Winston, so the dog was shaking a little, scared of not knowing why he was on a rocking ground. He would get used to it eventually.

“Did you have any problem?” Will asked Hannibal, tugging again at the rope.

“None at all. The guard is taking a well deserved nap in the guard house.”

Will looked at him with an eyebrow raised, knowing Hannibal hadn’t killed him, even though he had a smirk on his lips that could’ve suggested otherwise. Will shook his head and nodded towards the rope that held the sail tied.

“Help me with this, please?”

Together, they managed to unfold it. While they did it, Will couldn’t help to glance at Hannibal, still dressed in his suit but with his hair a little disheveled. It amused him to see him there, in his boat, looking so out of place but at the same time so enthusiastic about their plan. When Will had told Hannibal his idea of using his boat to escape, he had expected him to be at least displeased at the thought of having to spend so much time in the sea. But Hannibal had been on board with the plan, now quite literally.

“When did you exactly brought and installed the fixed motorboat?” Hannibal asked him then.

Will remembered that he had seen him fix the motor in the house, but Hannibal hadn’t been with him when he had been in the wharf the day Will had brought it.

“When I was trying to… you know. Vanish you from my life,” he said, shrugging a little.

“Ah, yes. I had almost forgot about that time.”

Will rolled his eyes at him, and Hannibal gave him a half smile. They finished taking into the boat the supplies and everything they had carried from the car to the dock, and then Will suddenly realized there was nothing else to do, nothing else to carry or move. He looked at the boat and at Hannibal, who nodded. They removed the gangway and untied the ropes that held the boat tied to the dock, and then that was it, they moved away from the dock and sailed away.

Will spent the first hour examining everything, setting the course as they sailed out at sea. Hannibal started helping him, but then Will told him he could rest, since it was a one-man job, so he sat close to the bow, in the bench that surrounded the gunwale.

When Will decided he could take a break, he went out of the cabin to go with Hannibal, but then he stopped beneath the door and observed him. The sea-wind was tugging at his hair, pulling it backwards, and he had closed his eyes and was facing the horizon while he petted Buster’s fur, that was lying down in the bench beside him. He looked relaxed, at ease, so Will smiled, a warm feeling spreading in his chest.

In that moment, Will remembered when Hannibal had burst into his life. How _scared_ Will had been about losing himself in what he thought was a side effect of losing his mind… And yet, Will hadn’t lost himself. In the end, he had found himself in Hannibal, in the only person that wholly saw and accepted who he was. The person with whom he shared an impossible connection, and yet the realest thing Will had ever felt. In that instant, Will had the same feeling he had had when they had walked out of Buffalo Bill’s house. He _knew_ he was exactly where he wanted to be, and with the only person he wanted to be.

Hannibal opened his eyes then and turned around to look at him, probably sensing something through the connection, and he smiled at Will.

“Come,” he told him, raising a hand towards him, inviting him.

Will closed the distance between them, and he took his hand before sitting beside him. Will put one knee on the inside of the bench, and linked his other leg with Hannibal’s. The other man pulled him closer to kiss him, and Will smiled against his lips, feeling his stomach flipping at the contact, his heart fluttering in his chest. When he pulled back, Will hugged him from behind, and he nuzzled his neck while he closed his eyes, letting Hannibal’s warmth wrap him like a safe blanket.

Yes, Will thought. Definitely, he was right where he was supposed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a few things.
> 
> * First of all, I know I said there would be 20 chapters, and this is _officially_ the last chapter of the story. The thing is, I always meant to write an epilogue and include it with the last chapter, but when I was writing this chapter, I realized it would be waaay too long to publish ch. 20 + epilogue together. SO, here it is, the "official" ending, but this is not the last of Sensates :). I'm not sure how much it will take me to finish the epilogue, since I have my exams now AND I'm also writing another longish Hannigram fic (I don't know when I'll start publishing it, but soon!), but I'll bring it as soon as I can! ^^
> 
> * I really REALLY hope you've liked this chapter<3\. Also, did many of you guess who the 'guest' for the dinner party would be? :P
> 
> * Since this is not the *last* chapter, I think I'm going to leave the 'acknowledgements' and everything else I want to say about this story for the epilogue's notes.  
> For now I'll just say that... I'm so happy and sad at the same time that this is coming to an end :_) 
> 
> \--
> 
> I published the complete Sensates fanmix [here](http://8tracks.com/starkaryen/sensates) on 8tracks, but these songs belonged in this chapter, so I'm going to make this right and I'm going to leave them here as I did in the rest of the chapters :)
> 
> · [Fire and Foe/El Viaje](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipZ3u33USgs), Nick Saxon  
> · [The Great Escape](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CpNp4g8yTv0), Woodkid (this one didn't make it in the cut for the fanmix, but I had it originally in the playlist, so I'll leave it here)
> 
> \--
> 
> Also, check out my other [Hannigram fics](http://archiveofourown.org/users/starkaryen/works?fandom_id=801274) if you want :3


	21. Epilogue

When Will woke up, he knew right away that he was alone in bed, so he groaned as he rolled over, lying down on his back but keeping his eyes closed. Will let his senses expand, trying to feel someone else… but he didn’t. He was alone.

He felt the sunlight warming the skin on his side, and he wondered once again at how warm that spring was already, and it wasn’t even April. But he was more focused on what he _couldn’t_ feel, so he slid his hand under his t-shirt until he felt it. It was something he did sometimes, look for the scar on his stomach almost unconsciously until he felt the ridge under his fingertips, and then he would trace the irregular and soft line for a few seconds. Only after he did this, he allowed himself to open his eyes, and he squinted trying to focus the room he was in; the closed door that led to the walk-in closet, the wooden dresser because only god knew how many space for ties they needed, the ample windows with the half-drawn curtains…

Will groaned again, but he decided that maybe it was time to get up, even if his plans for that morning had been quite different when he had gone to bed the night before.

Will went first to the adjacent bathroom, where he took a quick shower and brushed his teeth, and then he put on a new t-shirt and his pajama pants, that were, along with the clothes from the day before, spread on the chaise lounge in front of the bed.

And finally, right when he was about to go out of the bedroom, he first _sensed_ him, and then he heard the main door opening. Will went to the living room and his attention was momentarily divided by two things: the intense, mouth-watering smell of something in the kitchen, and the sight of Winston happily trotting towards him.

“Good morning, boy,” Will greeted him, kneeling and scratching the dogs’ head.

Winston had the leash still tied to his collar, and the other end inside his mouth, so Will shook his head while he took them off.

“Did you have a good time with Buster in the park? Did you?” Will asked him, petting him again while he rose to his feet.

“He certainly did.”

Will looked up at the hallway, in which Hannibal had appeared with Buster behind him, which didn’t surprise Will at all; the little dog followed the man _everywhere_.

Hannibal was dressed in a light cream-colored blazer and matching pants, and Will smiled at his sight much to his regret, since he had meant to chastise him a little bit. But he always found pretending to be mad at him more difficult than he wanted to admit. Will left the leash in the back of the nearest chair and went to Hannibal, snaring the man’s waist in his arms and pulling him closer with a tug. Hannibal smiled at him too, and he leaned to kiss him, but Will tipped his head in the last moment, making Hannibal kiss his chin instead of his lips.

“You know what happened to me _just_ now?” Will asked him when Hannibal pulled back, confused but at the same time amused at the denial for a kiss.

“What happened to you, my dear?”

“You’re not going to believe it, but… I woke up alone in bed,” Will said, arching his eyebrows.

Hannibal pretended to be surprised, and he wrapped his arms around Will’s back as he spread out the fingers of his hands, covering as much of Will’s shirt as he could.

“Did you now?”

“Oh, yes.”

“What a horrid way of starting the day. How could I repay such misdeed?”

Hannibal pulled back then, took Will’s left hand in his and bowed to him, kissing the back of his fingers, lips brushing skin and the metal of the false wedding band. Will snorted, unable to hold his serious expression, even though both of them knew he wasn’t angry at him, not in the slightest.

“I _should_ be mad at you, why can’t I be mad at you?”

“Because you love me,” Hannibal reminded him, smiling too.

Will rolled his eyes but smiled while Hannibal pulled him closer once again and trapped him in his arms. And that time, Will didn’t deny him the kiss. That time, he searched for his lips as much as Hannibal, the familiar feeling that felt like warm liquid dripping down his stomach and spreading across his entire body as soon as their mouths joined. Will draped both arms around the man’s neck while he parted his lips to welcome his tongue, tangling them together as Will’s fingers did the same with the locks of his hair, disheveling it as he loved so much to do.

When they broke the contact, Will smiled lazily and nuzzled Hannibal’s jaw.

“I know you hate waking up alone in bed, but I wanted to walk the dogs before you woke up,” Hannibal whispered in his ear, an unspoken apology among his words.

“That’s usually something we do together…”

“Maybe I wanted today to be special.”

Will pulled back, and he didn’t need to expand his mind to feel Hannibal’s beating slowing down, returning to normal. He had studied his heart through the years, listening to it when they lay down in the couch or in their bed, Will’s cheek against his chest, and he had also felt it through the connection, beating at the rhythm of his own. But above all, Will had learned how _he_ was the only thing that made Hannibal Lecter’s heart race, now and ever.

Will took a long breath in, and the scent reminded him that there was something that smelled fantastic, so he turned to the kitchen, still in Hannibal’s arms.

“You made something for breakfast?”

Hannibal smiled in reply, and he loosened his embrace.

“French pastries.”

“Did you make croissants…?” Will asked, his stomach rumbling in anticipation.

“Of course, they’re your favorites.”

Will remembered then that he had been reading in the couch a couple of days back when he had heard Hannibal moving in the kitchen, and when he had come inside, he had seen the man with an apron on and making at least five different types of jam. When Will had asked him, he had only said that ‘ _he would see_ ’. And now he finally knew _what_ that was for.

His mind travelled for a second to the month they had spent in France, travelling from Toulouse to Strasbourg, and to the pleading little man that had died at their knives after Will had asked Hannibal to hunt him down, after he had felt the man crawling beneath his skin when he had seen the murders in the news…

But Will only had good memories about those days, so he smiled.

“Uhmm… Is this your way of telling me you want to go back to France?” Will asked him, playful.

Hannibal chuckled still against him.

“Perhaps. But before we eat breakfast, there’s something I wanted to show you.”

He took Will’s hand when he pulled back, and then he turned away from the kitchen, guiding him around the couch.

“So… what’s the occasion?” Will asked innocently while he let Hannibal pull him, hiding any tone in his voice that he knew the other would notice.

Will achieved what he wanted; Hannibal stopped altogether, frozen at Will’s words. But he was a good actor, of course, even though Will managed so disarm him every time he wanted, so he turned slowly to him with Will’s hand still in his.

“You don’t know what day is it today?”

Will shrugged, wondering if he wasn’t overplaying it, but he was hiding it well from the connection.

“Friday?”

Hannibal smiled, but Will knew that wasn’t the bright, warm smile he usually gave him, and he had to resort to every bit of self-control not to break his façade.

Hannibal turned a little to face him and left his hand to cup Will’s face, running his thumb over his bearded cheek and brushing the curls on his nape with his fingertips.

“It’s the anniversary, darling.”

The patience and infinite affection in his voice made Will’s heart skip a beat. Still after all that time, the man’s simplest touches or words could disarm him like nobody ever did. It was, after all, a two way street. Nothing affected Hannibal like Will, and it was the same the other way around.

Will leaned into Hannibal’s hand, nuzzling his palm a little.

“That’s right, I forgot. Did they…?” Hannibal hummed affirmatively, and Will finally grinned. “Okay, let’s watch it. And then breakfast, please.”

Hannibal smiled at him and nodded, and after pressing a quick but soft kiss in Will’s forehead, they parted. Hannibal started the laptop while Will opened the sliding doors that led to the garden. The dogs immediately went out sprinting near Will’s legs, Buster trying to catch Winston unsuccessfully in the grass. They sat on the rounded outdoor couch with the pleasant morning sun warming up Will’s still cold skin. Hannibal left the laptop on the wicker table in front of them, and he apparently had it ready, because it only took him a couple of clicks to access the news website. And then, after looking at Will with half a smile, which he answered with a slight nod, he pressed play on the video.

“Today it has been two years since the town of Belvedere, Ohio, was shaken by the story of two serial killers colliding right here. Nobody expected the known killer Buffalo Bill to live in this peaceful town, where he chose and killed his first victim, as the FBI discovered later on in the investigation. What they expected even less, was for this house to become the scene of a tragic story that still, nowadays, doesn’t have a clear ending.”

The images changed from the reporter that was talking in front of the abandoned and sealed off house of Buffalo Bill, to images of both Will and Hannibal.

“Two years have been since the escaping and disappearance of The Chesapeake Ripper and the FBI Special Agent Will Graham, and still nobody knows for sure what happened there. The convicted cannibal and serial killer was collaborating at the time with the FBI in the case of Buffalo Bill, the _other_ serial killer who killed and skinned five women, and who kidnapped the Congresswoman’s daughter with the same intention. As the media knew afterwards, Hannibal Lecter helped in the investigation in exchange for a deal to move him from the Baltimore institution in which he had remained for three years, to another one in Pennsylvania. The deal began its execution while the investigation was still underway, but for reasons undisclosed by the FBI and the Baltimore organization, it was cancelled and Lecter was sent back to his former institution. What they couldn’t know, was that the serial killer would find a way to provoke an accident in the van in which he was being moved, and manage to kill every member of the convoy except for one lucky policemen that got away injured, but alive.”

“Yeah, how _did_ you manage that miraculous escape?” Will asked, shifting in his seat. Hannibal answered with a little smile, both knowing very well the answer.

“To this day, it’s still unknown how the Special Agent Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter both ended up in Buffalo Bill’s residence, where one of the serial killers was killed, and the other disappeared after leaving behind many unresolved questions. The initial hypothesis suggested that Graham could have been killed there too due to the amount of blood found, but a year later the images captured in a security camera in Spain, Europe, led to believe that the Special Agent could still be alive, although it is unclear in what state or circumstances.”

The low quality images showed them in a gas station in Spain, Hannibal filling the tank of their rented car and Will paying. They had been careful before and after, laying low and not attracting unwanted attention, but unfortunately for them, a robbery had occurred right there an hour later. When the police had retrieved the recording from the security camera, someone, somehow, had managed to recognize them, and they had been on their way to France the next day when the news echoed with the presence of an American serial killer in the country.

Will smiled a little at the last phrase of the reporter. To the public, he was still a victim. Taken by the very Chesapeake Ripper, some people guessed by force, others were more creative in naming drugs that would make him pliant enough for Hannibal to control the poor agent. But Will knew that some people knew the truth. He knew Jack did, and most probably Alana. Hannibal and him had made sure of that with their last dinner with Chilton, even if the FBI had decided for some reason to cover Will’s clear implication that night. They simply didn’t want to admit it to the public. They didn’t want people to know that an FBI agent was on the run with Hannibal Lecter, not taken _by_ him.

“The other theories of what happened…”

“Okay, I think I’ve heard enough,” Will said, and Hannibal nodded in agreement.

Will shut the laptop without bothering to close the website with the video, and he sighed. They usually were alert to any news about them, in case they had new leads or information that they had to know, but that had been almost exactly the same news report as the year before.

“I can’t believe they’re still clinging to the _victim_ theory,” Will said.

“They’re just telling the story people want to hear.”

“Yeah, but there’s only so much they can deny… But you know what? I don’t care. Today is our anniversary, so let them tell whatever story they want to tell…”

Hannibal smiled as Will leaned backwards against the couch’s cushions and against Hannibal’s side. He grabbed the lapel of Hannibal’s jacket and pulled him until their noses touched. That close, Will couldn’t focus his face, but he knew Hannibal would still be smiling, and so did he while they breathed the same air.

“I have a surprise for you,” Hannibal whispered, his words making Will’s skin tickle in anticipation.

“Abigail…?”

Hannibal chuckled, but shook his head pulling a little backwards.

“No. But as far as I know, she’s still coming this summer once she finishes her exams.”

Will nodded and felt his throat tightening with joy at the thought. The last time they had seen her had been in Christmas. She had told everybody that she was discovering herself in the solo journeys she was making, when in reality, she was staying with them every time she could.

“So what, then?”

Hannibal stood up in a single movement, and Will followed him with his eyes until he disappeared inside. He watched the dogs meanwhile, Winston throwing a tennis ball in the air and catching it again once it fell on the grass while Buster was lying down, already exhausted and not that interested in the toy. Will closed his eyes for a moment, the sun from the Tuscany starting to prickle in his skin, and thought once again about the idea of getting more dogs. They had found a few strays, and Will had taken them home with Hannibal’s help, but they had only helped finding a home or a shelter for them. Two dogs were already more than enough when they knew every single day could be the day they would have to run towards another city, another name, another false backstory.

When he felt Hannibal coming back, he noticed the folder he had in his hands, but he didn’t leap on him the second he sat again. He patiently waited while Hannibal looked at him for a few seconds.

“Are you going to make me guess…?” Will asked, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Hannibal gave him another smile, the smile that Will knew that meant he was enjoying himself. So Will snorted and tipped his head to deliberately look at him through his eyelashes.

“Can you _please_ tell me what it is?”

“How could I ever deny you anything…?”

Will grinned and brought their lips together for a brief kiss, and then _finally_ Hannibal sat up, facing him with the folder in his knees.

“All right. Remember the killer that’s been bothering you the past few months?”

“Of course. I- Wait. You’re not saying what I think you’re saying…?” Will asked him.

“I do.”

“You- You _found_ him?”

Hannibal finally opened the folder. The first things Will saw were the newspapers clipping with the news they had been reading for months. They had called him _L’incubo di Roma,_ the nightmare of Rome, because his murders had been presented like the famous Romantic painting. He had targeted almost exclusively women, and he had left them lying on a couch or bed with their head and arms dangling on the edge. But what had stirred Will and made his blood burn in his veins had been the murdered and disfigured pets that he left lying on top of their owners, as the beast watching over the woman in the painting. That’s what had made him search in the newspapers, in the news channel, taking every news he could find, investigating with the poor resources they had on their own, trying to get into the mind of the killer…

“Thanks to you,” Hannibal said, and Will looked up at him, seeing the pride in his face and feeling it through their connection. “You were right in what you told me about him, of course. He is a member from the high society. Cultured, regular in fund-raising galas, flawless citizen, contributes in rebuilding projects… He even has a beautiful wife. Who would suspect such a man…?”

Will smiled, and in that moment, he remembered Freddie Lounds’ words. _It takes one to catch one_ , and for once he didn’t remembered the journalist with bitterness. They knew how a person suit worked, because they wore one everyday the moment they went out of that house. They wore the suit of a marriage, a professor and his husband, that sometimes fixed motorboats. They wore that suit, and some of it fit with who they really were, but they knew that the reality was so much more.

“You found him…?” he repeated, and his smile grew wider.

“For you,” Hannibal nodded. “It’s my gift.”

Hannibal took a couple of papers from the folder and showed them to him. A face, finally, to match the name in the news. A real name, smiling pictures with people in fancy parties and galas…

“However… there is a slight problem,” Hannibal said, and Will looked up again, furrowing his brow. “I wanted us to hunt him this weekend, but I found that he will be attending the opera tomorrow, and a gala on Sunday. I tried getting us tickets to the opera, but it was completely sold out. Unless we wait for him outside of one of these events… But it will be more risky than I’d want to.”

Will tried to contain the smile that tugged at his lips, a laugh forming in the pit of his stomach.

“Hannibal… what opera?”

“Why is that-“

“Just tell me.”

“ _La Traviata_ ,” he answered, tilting his head with open curiosity.

Will closed his eyes for a second, and then he stood up without another word, leaving Hannibal there. He went to the living room and retrieved an envelope from one of his fishing books in the bookshelf. When he came back outside, Hannibal hadn’t moved at all. He gave him the envelope and chuckled.

“I think we did it again. Through the connection, or- I don’t know, but… Happy anniversary.”

“I thought you hadn’t remembered,” Hannibal reminded him, but a smile brightened up his face as he left the folder aside and took the envelope.

“Hannibal, of course I remembered. I just wanted to surprise you,” he admitted, shrugging a little.

Hannibal took his gift out and his eyes gleamed when he saw the opera and train tickets.

Sometimes, even when they tried to deliberately hide things from one another, the connection had a way of slipping things through from one to the other. Once, they had made a reservation in the same restaurant, for the same day and hour. Other times they were subtle things, like Hannibal forgetting to tell Will to pick up something on his way home, and then appearing with that thing anyway. Other times, it was even more complicated, like that time; somehow their plans had blended perfectly.

They still had no idea how something like the connection could be a real thing, but as far as Will was concerned, he was very much okay with it. Despite what Dr. Bedelia Du Maurier had told the _anonymous_ man that had written him letting her know that the Sensates were more real than what she thought. She had beg them to arrange a meeting with her, wherever and however, since their connection was something she, but especially them, should know how it worked, exactly. But as Hannibal had once told him, he was more interested in the connection itself than in how or why it worked.

“ _La Traviata_ ,” Hannibal repeated, reading from the tickets.

“Now I have an excuse to wear that ridiculously expensive suit you gave me for my birthday,” Will shrugged.

Hannibal chuckled, putting the tickets back inside the envelope and leaving it beside the laptop before taking Will by the nape and pulling him closer. Will let the other drag him towards him, and he helped pushing himself up and straddling Hannibal, sitting in his thighs. Will put both hands on the back of the couch and nuzzled Hannibal’s nose with his. He smiled again when he felt Hannibal’s hand leaving his nape and roaming freely on his back, drawing familiar patterns between his shoulder blades.

“How can you be real…?” Hannibal asked him in a whisper.

Will smiled, recognizing the words, spoken like a mantra between them. He saw behind closed eyes the moment in which Will had touched Hannibal right in the place Hannibal was touching him in that moment, the very first time he had felt him, what felt like a million years ago. He saw too a memory Hannibal had shared with him long after it had happened, of him touching Will there while he was sleeping, repeating that exact same question. _How_ were they real, _how_ was what they had real…? Neither of them knew, and neither of them cared, as long as they continued to orbit around each other.

Will brought their lips together, teasing with sealed lips first, and melting completely when Hannibal’s tongue made his way between his lips. Will tangled his fingers again in the hair on the back of Hannibal’s head, grabbing at his now longer hair. He tugged gently but firmly, and that elicited a low rumble from Hannibal’s throat. Will smiled against his lips as Hannibal slid one hand under his t-shirt, and the other lower, lower, lower.

Will arched his back and bent his head backwards breaking the kiss when he felt Hannibal’s hands in the swell of his ass, welcoming the touch but at the same time remembering they hadn’t finished talking, and he knew once they gave into each other, they would quickly forget about everything that wasn’t the other.

“How naughty of you,” Will teased him, pulling back and running a finger down his chest. “Tell me about the _L’incubo di Roma_.”

Hannibal licked his already wet lips, but his hand returned to the middle of Will’s back.

“He will be at the opera tomorrow. Thanks to you, we have the perfect opportunity to make acquaintances with him.”

“And then…?”

“I discovered that he has a reputation. That he can be… _persuaded_ into coming with us on his own or even into extending an invitation to his own house. Apparently, his wife is away on a business trip.”

Will breathed out a laugh, knowing what he meant. The man was prone to infidelity, and he didn’t have a problem about the gender of his company. They would be the company he didn’t know yet that he wanted for that night.

“So it’s going to be that kind of party, huh?”

“At least that’s what he will think,” Hannibal said, arching his eyebrows.

Will laughed again, and then he sat up a little, still sitting in Hannibal’s lap. He looked at his maroon eyes, and for a second they stayed still like that, Will’s fingers playing with one of the buttons from Hannibal’s shirt.

“I can’t believe you found him and that you managed to keep it from me,” Will said, a wide smile in his face.

“You kept _that_ from me,” Hannibal said, nodding towards the table.

“Yeah, and it was _really_ hard. I bought those tickets four months ago, you know how much it took me not to unconsciously share those thoughts with you?”

“I can imagine…”

Hannibal grinned and Will let his fingers slide again in Hannibal’s hair, that time grazing from the front to his nape.

“Please tell me you don’t have any lecture today…” he asked him.

“Of course not. Tell me you don’t have any motorboats to fix.”

Will bent down again to press his cheek against Hannibal, and he whispered in his ear.

“There’s nothing in the world that would keep me from what I plan to do to you today.”

When he pulled back, Hannibal was grinning again, but Will also felt how his words had sent jolts through the man’s body, his arousal now more than a mild feeling.

“But before…” he started saying, getting off of Hannibal’s lap and standing up in front of him. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten my croissants, Hannibal.”

He took the hand Will was offering, and when he stood up to go to the kitchen, Will let Hannibal embrace him from behind him, and they stumbled back inside and to the kitchen with Hannibal peppering kisses into his neck.

****

Hannibal often told Will that he would do anything for him. It was something Will already knew, but he liked telling him and Will liked hearing it. Anything he wanted, anything he needed, he would give it to him. He said it sometimes in the midst of their damp skins crashing into each other, in between wet kisses, and other times Hannibal would be reading and he would suddenly look up his book and to Will, and he would remind him of that. And every time, Will’s answer was, of course, that he already knew.

That’s why that afternoon, as Hannibal went out of the shower and Will was still with his damp towel wrapped around his waist and his skin beaded because of the condensation inside the bathroom, Will asked him for something.

He did it with a sly smile, the one he knew Hannibal loved so much, and slipping a hand to his waist to pull him closer, making Hannibal’s wet and naked body collapse with Will’s bare chest. He asked him with his lips moving very close to his ear, his breath eliciting a shiver from Hannibal’s skin and feeling a smile tugging at the man’s lips even before pulling back to meet his eyes.

Will knew Hannibal wouldn’t deny him anything, but he still liked to see the look on his face when he asked him things that way. And of course, Hannibal answered with a nod and trapping his mouth with his own in a kiss.

So that night, they went to the restaurant in Hannibal’s Thruxton, as Will had asked him. And that night, he wore much more informal clothes than he would’ve normally chosen for a dinner like that; including, as he had asked him, the leather jacket Will had given Hannibal as a gift when he had been thinking about buying the motorcycle.

When they left the restaurant after their dinner, Will bit his lower lip while Hannibal mounted the bike in a graceful movement and held the second helmet to him. Will accepted it but before putting it on, he leaned until his chest met Hannibal’s side, tucking his forehead on Hannibal’s temple and letting his lips and his breathing brush against the other’s earlobe. He got the effect he was looking for immediately, and Hannibal’s arousal hit him and merged with his own.

“Will…”

He smiled, because he knew what that single word meant, with Hannibal’s voice dropping almost to a whisper and his breath faltering. Will slid his free hand in the gap between Hannibal’s arm and his side, gripping the leather.

“You know that I can’t think clearly when you wear this jacket…”

“And yet you asked me to wear it,” Hannibal reminded him, but Will felt the satisfaction in his voice.

Will pulled back and gave him a smirk.

“With this exact purpose.”

“I thought so.”

Will finally put on the helmet and climbed on the motorcycle behind Hannibal. When the other also put on his own helmet, he looked back for a second and Will answered by wrapping Hannibal’s chest with both arms. And then, the engine came alive roaring, silencing everything around them.

Will tightened his embrace while Hannibal streaked through the streets of Florence, zigzagging between the cars, although not because he was afraid, but because he had come to love that feeling. His hands grasping firmly the leather jacket, the inside of Will’s thighs tightly pressed against the outside of Hannibal’s, the warmth of their bodies reaching the other through their clothes... And of course, even over the deafening roar of the motorcycle, they could still _sense_ each other. Will could feel Hannibal’s steady heartbeats, and he knew the other could feel Will’s quickening ones. He could also feel Hannibal’s delight at having him so close, Will’s chest pressed against his back without even an inch between them.

Will tipped his head so he wouldn’t hit his helmet with Hannibal’s, and he pressed this head against the man’s shoulder blade. Right over Buffalo Bill’s scars, right over the place he couldn’t wait to touch with no layers in between.

When they arrived home twenty minutes later, Will took his helmet off and took a long breath, finally free from it, and left it in the shelf while the garage door closed behind them. He turned and saw Hannibal leaving his own on top of the motorcycle, but Will couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t stand being apart from him. He crashed his body against the other’s and snared Hannibal’s mouth with his own, claiming him in an eager and too rough kiss at the beginning. Hannibal growled while he shifted his body until their hips fit against one another. Both of their breathings were already ragged when Will pushed Hannibal towards the door that led to the inside of the house. He fumbled for the doorknob, not wanting to leave Hannibal’s lips, and when the door finally opened, they fell downwards and collided against the opposite wall with a thud. Hannibal chuckled, and Will pulled back with a smile on his lips.

“Shut up.”

“I haven’t said a thing, Will.”

Will shook his head and saw the dogs appearing in the hallway, but he raised his index finger to them and clicked his tongue. The dogs knew instantly that that meant ‘ _not now_ ’, so they returned to their beds in the living room.

Hannibal cupped his face with both hands and made him turn to him again, but Will didn’t need him to remind him what they had paused. He pushed Hannibal against the wall again as he kissed him until they were both breathless and their lips reddened. Only then, Will gripped the man’s jacket and pulled him away from the wall and into the hallway. Hannibal was as eager as him, because while Will guided him through the rooms, the other man’s hands refused to leave his hips even when Will was wriggling out of his jacket.

Once they were in the bedroom, Will stopped across the bed, toed his shoes as far from them as he could and turned to Hannibal, running his tongue over his own bottom lip as he dragged a finger up the leather. Will unzipped the jacket leisurely, taking in the black shirt underneath and inhaling close to his neck, Hannibal’s aftershave making him feel a little light-headed. He pulled the jacket down Hannibal’s arms and went to his lips again as the garment was released and blindly thrown to the chaise lounge. Will licked Hannibal’s bottom lip, teasing and smiling when the other craned his neck and tried to trap Will’s lips with his own.

“I thought _I_ was the eager one,” Will told him, trailing the hem of Hannibal’s shirt with both hands.

“You are too beautiful for me to resist, dear Will.”

He grinned, and finally kissed him again while his fingers worked on the buttons of Hannibal’s shirt. He was only halfway through them when the man wrapped his arms around him and spun around, throwing him onto the mattress. They bounced together on top of it, and Hannibal straightened to take his shirt off, throwing it aside. Will smiled and reached for the man’s skin with both hands, trailing up his stomach until he met the hair in his chest, and then Hannibal bent over again. He went straight to Will’s neck, kissing his bearded jaw, licking over the pulse in his throat, sucking at the ridge of his collarbone until he reached the scar in his right shoulder, the one Tobias had left on him. Will let out a low moan when Hannibal nibbled and sucked at the skin there, taking as much time as Will had taken with his jacket. He wrapped his hands around Hannibal’s back, feeling his shoulder blades moving beneath his fingers, and he arched upwards to feel Hannibal’s erection against his own. Hannibal lost his focus on Will’s skin because of that, and he pressed his forehead against Will’s shoulder while he panted quietly.

When Hannibal pulled back to meet his eyes, Will bit his bottom lip and smiled at him. Then, he wrapped Hannibal’s hips with his legs and rolled over on the mattress. Once he was on top, Will bent over exactly as Hannibal had done, taking the man’s bottom lip between his teeth and sucking before searching for his tongue with his own. Will felt Hannibal’s hands descending across his back until he reached his ass, where he slid both hands between the slacks and the boxers and he squeezed a little. Will’s half moan and half laugh was muffled by the kiss, but he repeated the motion he had done being underneath him, and he rippled his body slowly until their erections grazed against each other. Hannibal dropped his head against the mattress, and Will used that to draw with his tongue a path in his throat up to his chin, where he bit him.

Hannibal then made him roll over once again, and when Will looked at him raising an eyebrow, he grinned. Hannibal crawled backwards, getting off the bed and kneeling in front of it. He grabbed at Will’s ankles and pulled him until his ass was at the edge of the mattress. Will chuckled a little with the movement, but then he sat up and took his own shirt off while Hannibal worked the belt and buttons of his slacks. Will helped him pushing his hips upwards once Hannibal pulled both the pants and boxers out, and when the man turned to him, he didn’t wait any longer before wrapping his cock with one hand. Will was half sitting, legs at both of Hannibal’s sides and leaning backwards with the palm of his hands flat on the mattress. But when he felt Hannibal’s tongue running up the length of his cock, his support failed him and he let his back fall onto the bed, fighting against the desire of bucking his hips upwards, even though he knew Hannibal didn’t mind at all when he did it by accident. Through the years, the man had devoted himself to being able to swallow more and more of Will each time he took him in his mouth. That’s why, when he wrapped his lips around the head and took him down to the base, it didn’t surprise Will, but he still couldn’t drown the gasp that grew into a moan. Will squirmed in the bed and gripped at the other’s hair, and Hannibal’s free hand settled again on his hip, pinning him to the mattress.

“Fuck, Hannibal…”

When he said his name Will felt the wave of arousal that came from the other end of the connection, crashing wildly against his own, and he arched his back as Hannibal sucked and squeezed with his lips in the most perfect way. He felt the orgasm building inside way too quickly, so it didn’t surprise him either when Hannibal pulled back. Will looked at him out of breath, tilting his head, but Hannibal was already crawling over him, and he pressed their cheeks together to whisper in his ear.

“I want you inside me, Will. _Now_.”

Will had to contain himself not to come in that exact moment, and he nodded quickly.

Once the shyness and insecurity of their first times had been pushed aside by experience and confidence, Will had seen confirmed how much he loved having sex with Hannibal. Through the years, he had discovered that he liked anything and everything he and Hannibal did. He liked it when Hannibal took over, when he was so eager for him that he could barely wait until they were undressed to pounce on Will. He definitely liked it when Hannibal was a gentle and sweet lover, reminding him of the beginning, of how he had never touched him unless Will did first. He liked it when they were both so hard that they couldn’t make it past the foreplay, and he loved it when they stayed up all night, falling exhausted and tangled onto the bed only when the sun started peeking on the horizon. He also loved it when Hannibal was inside him, so deep that the mental and physical connection was merely a blur between each other, and he also loved fucking Hannibal until the ever-composed man was breathless and disarrayed beneath him, always whispering soft words in different languages. And despite having tried so many different things together in the years they had been together, Will _knew_ he would never stop loving anything and everything Hannibal gave him, and that the feeling was mutual.

And that night, Will knew what he wanted, and he knew the other would want it too. But having Hannibal ask him himself was always too good, too much.

Will pulled the man closer grabbing his nape and gave him a hungry and messy kiss before turning over and pushing Hannibal onto the mattress.

“Take them off,” Will said, nodding towards his pants, still caging his growing erection.

Hannibal gave him a sly smile, probably regarding his bossy tone, but he gladly complied. As he did that, Will went to the bedside table, where they had within reach everything they needed for occasions like that. He took the lube jar and went back to Hannibal, who took it from his hands and left it aside for the time being.

He put both hands in Will’s hips, pulling him closer and nuzzling his stomach, avoiding his achingly hard cock altogether. Will slowly ran a hand through the man’s hair when Hannibal started kissing his skin, and then he finally pressed his tongue flat over the rim of his scar, drawing it with the tip of his tongue and sinking his fingers deeper when Will gripped his hair tighter. When he pulled back a little, Will looked down at him through hooded eyes and Hannibal gave him a smile. He then bent down and both Hannibal and him crawled back to the center of the bed without breaking the eye contact. Once they were in their former position, Will stood on all fours above him, and he nuzzled Hannibal’s nose a little.

“So… you want me to fuck you?” Will teased him, and he smiled in advance, because he obviously knew the answer before Hannibal rumbled and put both hands again on his ass, this time without any layers.

“You know I do, my love.”

Will grinned, pleased, and finally straightened and reached for the ridiculously expensive lube Hannibal liked to buy. With the skill that only time and repetition had given him, he settled between Hannibal’s already bent and spread out knees, and he applied the lube gently but determined. Will started massaging Hannibal’s entrance and he groaned impatiently, so Will smiled and went inside him with one finger. Hannibal put both hands in Will’s shoulders and dropped his head backwards, so Will bent down and nibbled his bottom lip until the other breathed out and returned his kiss. Will started going deeper every time he sank his finger back into him while he felt Hannibal relaxing underneath him.

“Will-,” Hannibal muttered, his voice hoarse.

Will knew what he wanted, so he obeyed gladly to the wordless request, and he added another finger inside him. And when he went back into him, he crooked his fingers up until he reached his prostate and Hannibal dig his fingers in his shoulder, dropping his head backwards again and letting out a gruff moan.

Will shivered with him, and he bent down again and licked at the hollow of his neck and kissed his bared throat until he reached his mouth again.

“Hannibal, look at me,” Will whispered.

Will pulled back a little only to add a third finger while Hannibal raised his head, and he used the grip on his shoulder to guide Will back down to his lips. They kissed in between pants, hot breaths merging as their tongues and lips danced to the familiar rhythm.

“Will, I think- Ah. I think that’s enough.”

“We are _definitely_ eager today, huh?” Will joked, and Hannibal smiled.

Will pulled out and then took the lube again to apply it to himself, gasping a little when he smeared the cool liquid across his hard cock. When he bent down again, he felt Hannibal’s thudding heartbeats, so he put a hand on his chest while he guided himself to his opening. He started going slow, but then Hannibal reached at Will’s hip and pushed him closer and into himself, and both of them moaned at the same time, Will feeling the tautness around him, and Hannibal feeling the other completely inside him. Will bent down again, cradled Hannibal’s face with both arms and went to his lips, kissing him as slowly as he could since they were both breathless and aching for the friction. Hannibal then groaned and Will started moving, pulling back to sink back inside him.

“My beautiful, beautiful Will,” Hannibal said, one of his hands still in his hip accompanying his thrusts, and the other sliding to wrap his back.

“Tell me-,” he tried to say, but he had to close his eyes for a second, sliding the fingers of one hand into Hannibal’s hair.  
“What, Will, anything you want.”

“That. Tell me that. Tell me anything.”

Will quickened his thrusts and Hannibal moaned against his lips when he adjusted his hips and brushed his prostate.

“How much I- ah. Love you?” Hannibal asked, knowing the answer.

“Yes,” Will muttered.

“And how I would do anything for you?”

“Yes, all of that.”

Will knew that he wasn’t going to last much more, that _they_ weren’t going to last, so he dropped his head in the crook of Hannibal’s neck as the man sank his fingers deeper into his skin and quickened the rhythm, going into him harder and faster.

They cried out at the same time, Will tightening the grip on Hannibal’s hair, and the other wrapping Will completely against him as the orgasm rippled beneath their skin.

Will stayed still, feeling both of their heartbeats thudding against each of their chests as one, their breathings crashing against the other’s sweaty skin, their stomachs sticky with Hannibal’s mess and not caring about it at all.

When Will could move, he pulled up and Hannibal brushed his curls backwards as he led him to his lips, his tongue licking inside Will’s mouth in a languid kiss.

When he went out of him, Will stood up still a little wobbly and brought a small towel to the bed, that they used to clean themselves a little. Then, Hannibal wrapped an arm around Will’s waist and pulled him down, throwing him back to the mattress. Will chuckled and held to his shoulders while the man nuzzled and kissed his neck. When Hannibal pulled back with a pleased feline smile, Will felt his chest tightening.

“I love you so much, Hannibal…”

Hannibal smile faltered, but only because Will knew that every time he heard that coming from Will’s lips, no matter how many times he had heard it before, Hannibal’s heart always skipped a beat. The other kissed him once again, lips brushing over lips.

In that moment, Will felt the connection wrapping him even more, which meant Hannibal was purposely expanding it, reaching him. And then, he understood why; a song started sounding, filling the silence around them. Will smiled when he recognized the first chords from Elvis’ song.

“I love you too, Will,” he whispered, his thumb caressing his cheek and his eyes gleaming.

After a while in which they didn’t do anything else than kiss and let out contented sighs, Hannibal got up the bed and Will rolled and smiled into the pillow as he heard him moving around the kitchen. When he returned, he had brought a tray full of fruit and two glasses of water. Will sat up and drank a couple of gulps from his glass while Hannibal lay down on his side beside him and took one of the fruits. Will chose a fig, one of Hannibal’s favorites and one that Will had come to enjoy quite a lot since he had discovered them in Italy. He enjoyed the explosion of flavor the fruit brought in his mouth, and Hannibal grinned, wrinkles forming around his eyes as he sensed his pleasure through the connection.

“So... What hour does our train depart tomorrow?” Hannibal asked, taking a piece of another cut fruit.

“At ten thirty, I think. We’ll be there in time to check into the hotel and go to lunch wherever you want,” Will said.

Hannibal smiled, and he craned his neck to press his lips against Will’s. He tasted like grapes and cantaloupe.

“Then I believe we still have a few hours ahead of us. We might as well make the most of them.”

“Oh yes. Don’t believe we’re done yet…”

They both smiled, and Will moved the tray with fruit away from the bed before Hannibal crawled over him.

****

_When the stream of people started pouring from the auditorium and into the room where the food and drinks were being served, Hannibal and Will located Mr. Ferrara quite easily. He was surrounded by people, his laugh easy and loud, and most probably fake. They wandered around the room greeting other people and sharing a few praises to the opera they had immensely enjoyed. Hannibal had watched that story so many times before that he could quote it, so instead he watched Will most of the time. How he had reached out to take Hannibal’s hand, squeezing it with his at some points of the story, how his eyes had gleamed when the music had elevated and Violetta had rose from bed, and finally how his brow had furrowed and a gasp had gone out of his mouth when the young woman met her final fate._

_When they saw the circle of people around the man dissolving, they took it as the perfect opportunity, so they walked to him until they were facing him._

_“Mr. Ferrara. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Hannibal said in Italian, extending his hand before him. The man took it after a second. “My husband and I have read so much about your projects and we are very impressed, especially the rebuilding of the orphanage.”_

_“Oh! Thank you so much, Mr.-”_

_“Adams. Jacques Adams,” he said as he shook the man’s hand._

_“Matthew,” Will said, taking a step forwards and offering his own hand._

_Hannibal felt Will’s distaste reaching him, bitter and blunt from the moment he had laid eyes on him, a confirmation that he was indeed_ L’incubo _._

_Ferrara smiled at them and then he pointed his index at Hannibal, squinting his eyes._

_“Your Italian is amazing, but something tells me neither one of you is from Italy. And maybe that that surname is from Matthew here, isn’t it?”_

_“You’re completely right,” Hannibal said, nodding once and painting in his lips the warmest smile he could come up with. “What gave me away?” he joked._

_Ferrara laughed once, and then he sipped from his champagne._

_“You’re… let me guess. Swedish?”_

_“Danish.”_

_“Almost,” Ferrara said, pursing his lips, but he smiled anyway and looked from Hannibal to Will. “And do you live here? I don’t recall seeing any of you before in any event… And I’m pretty sure I would remember.”_

_Hannibal smiled; there was the flirting, exactly what they needed._

_“Matthew and I came to Italy from the United States a few years ago, but we’re established in Florence. It’s the first time we’ve come to Rome.”_

_“Ah, that would explain it, then. Your first time in the opera, too?”_

_“My first time,” Will said in Italian, deliberately taking Hannibal’s skill in the language through the connection, since he was still learning Italian on his own. “Jacques always insisted that we had to come, but I wanted our first time in the opera to be special.”_

_“Oh, and what’s the occasion?”_

_“Two-year anniversary,” Hannibal said, looking at Will and not having to fake at all the adoring smile he gave him._

_Ferrara smiled widely at them._

_“We must drink a toast to that, then. To love… and new friends.”_

_The three of them raised their glasses, and Will let his hand slip from Hannibal’s side to the lower of his back while they drank. He knew what that meant._

_“If you ever happen to find yourself in Florence sometime, my husband and I would love to have you for dinner, Mr. Ferrara,” Will said then, his voice matching a little Ferrara’s tone._

_“We would,” Hannibal asserted. “But perhaps since we’re all here now, we could… go see Rome. It’s still early, and it would be a shame to waste such a beautiful and warm night.”_

_“A little dark for sightseeing, don’t you think, Mr. Adams…?”_

_Despite his words, Ferrara’s lips stretched in a smile that left perfectly clear his opinion on the matter. Will chuckled a little._

_“My husband has a taste for discovering the darkest corners of every city we visit. But perhaps Mr. Ferrara is right, maybe it’s a little late for that, darling. What about we invite you to a drink instead, Mr. Ferrara?” Will asked._

_Ferrara looked at his champagne flute and then he drank the remaining in a gulp._

_“Any particular place in mind, Mr. Adams?” he asked, and Hannibal smiled pleased._

_“Well… we are open to any suggestions,” Will said, dropping his voice and almost purring the words._

_Even though Hannibal knew he was acting, he couldn’t help to look down at Will with a proud smile in his lips. He had come to enjoy that part of their hunting as much as the part that would come later. The luring of the prey, how Will used his empathy to give people exactly what they wanted…_

_“I’m glad you say that. How would you feel about going to a place with a bar completely stocked and a lovely view of Rome? You know, for… sightseeing purposes,” he asked, tipping his head._

_Hannibal and Will looked at each other, and he pulled Will even closer to his side when they turned to smile at their prey._

_“Sounds perfect.”_

****

_Mr. Ferrara’s house was everything they had expected it to be; a huge mansion, away from downtown to preserve the privacy of the few people who owned a house in the vicinity, but not so far from the city, as it didn’t even take them half an hour to arrive in Ferrara’s Maserati. It was the kind of place they themselves would choose; perfect to conduct any activities without having to worry about prying neighbors._

_The man completely avoided mentioning his wife in the ride, but once they were there and a big picture of him and a woman in their wedding day received them in the lobby, Ferrara smiled and looked down, faking remorse._

_“My wife… she’s away. But don’t worry, she is aware and condones my… extramarital activities.”_

_Will and Hannibal nodded, as if they were learning that information just now, and once that was cleared up, Ferrara led them through a hallway. They passed a starkly decorated living room in which Hannibal quickly guessed nobody had ever really spent any time, and finally they went into another room, that one more warm and cozy. Ferrara walked first to the ample windows in front of them to open the curtains that revealed, as he has promised, a beautiful view of Rome city, its lights shining in the distance._

_“Does the service live here with you and your wife?” Hannibal asked then, camouflaging what he really wanted to ask. “It’s such a big house for only two people.”_

_Ferrara smiled while he went towards a bar in which he started taking out glasses and bottles._

_“We have a couple of cleaners and a chef that cooks for us, but they don’t live here. My wife and I like our privacy.”_

_Hannibal shared a glance with Will. That, both of them understood perfectly, and Ferrara had given them the answer they wanted: they were alone._

_While Hannibal and Will wandered around the room, Ferrara began then telling them about the house, which apparently had been a family inheritance, and about the many renovations his wife and him had done over the years. Hannibal turned away from the window and looked at Will, who turned to him too with a poorly contained smirk in his lips. The room was decorated with a wall serving as a library, completely full of books from the floor to the ceiling. Another wall was occupied by the bar in which Ferrara was still busy and cheerfully chatting. And finally, the wall that didn’t have the doors that led to the hallway had an empty fireplace with a big painting hanging on top of it. The painting of_ The Nightmare _._

Very subtle _, Hannibal thought wryly, and he knew Will was thinking exactly the same._

_“Do you want the same drink? Champagne and whisky…? Or perhaps I could offer you a limoncello?”_

_Hannibal smiled broadly and nodded once._

_“When in Rome…” he said, and Ferrara laughed loudly._

_“I’ll stay with the whisky, if it’s possible,” Will said._

_Will pocketed his hands and left the space between the u-shaped couch and the fireplace in which he had been looking at the painting, and both he and Hannibal walked towards the bar and the third man. He received them with their chosen drinks, and then Ferrara raised his own glass with the limoncello, proposing another toast. Neither Hannibal nor Will drank anything until the man took the first sip._

_“Do you like it, Mr. Adams?” Ferrara asked then, nodding towards the painting but looking only at Will, apparently having noticed his interest._

_“It’s a very beautiful painting. Although I myself prefer William Blake’s paintings,” Will said, smiling a little and making reference to something only them would understand._

_Ferrara arched an eyebrow at him._

_“That is a very interesting choice. Many would say his paintings were quite dark.”_

_“Not the people who like_ The Nightmare _, I hope?”_

_That elicited another loud laugh out of Ferrara’s throat, and he nodded._

_“Touché.”_

_Hannibal sipped from his drink while Ferrara didn’t take his eyes off of Will, and he felt for the third time that night a pang of rage surging inside him._

_In the way to the man’s house he had learned that Will had caught Ferrara’s eye. In the car, he had almost completely neglected Hannibal’s presence in the passenger seat and talked the entire ride looking at the rear mirror or even turning completely while they were stopped in traffic lights. Hannibal had obviously noticed that, as had Will, so it came to no surprise when Ferrara finally acted. The man calmly left his glass on top of the bar’s counter, and then he just grabbed Will’s nape and searched for his lips, finding only the cheek Will turned to him when he recovered from the initial surprise of being suddenly so close to the man._

_Will’s drink spilled onto the floorboard when the man pushed him backwards with his body, caging him against the nearest wall. But Ferrara was apparently the eager type, too, because he did not even flinch when the hundred-dollar bottle whisky was wasted on his own floor or when Will’s glass followed suit and smashed against it._

_Hannibal clenched his jaw at the man’s rudeness, since he had expected at least a little decency. He was even willing to let the man enjoy his last drink out of respect, maybe have a civilized conversation… But of course, Ferrara had shattered that opportunity himself with a single action._

_Will tried to squirm free of Ferrara’s grip, so Hannibal made two swift movements, leaving his glass on top of the bar and closing the distance with them in two long steps. He grabbed Ferrara’s arm and the back of his neck and pulled him away from his Will and then against the wall again. Ferrara laughed, with a hand twisted backwards and his chest against the wall._

_“Oh, I see… so you guys like it rough, huh?” Ferrara asked switching then to an accented English._

_Will, now recovered from the man’s rude attempt, straightened his suit and turned, leaning a little closer to him._

_“You have no idea, Mr. Ferrara…”_

_Will looked at Hannibal, and he smiled in response. Then, Will grabbed Ferrara’s suit jacket himself, and Hannibal let him go. Will threw the man to the floor, in the ample carpeted space between the back of the couch and the bar._

_When Ferrara recovered from the blow, Hannibal was already standing a couple of steps in front of him when he sat on his heels. And_ finally _, as he looked from Hannibal to Will, he started to realize that something was not right – at least, for him._

_“What…?”_

_“You know,_ Ferrara _,” Will said spitting out the name and kneeling._

_He pulled up the right leg of his suit and took the knife he had been keeping beneath the sock, safely strapped to his ankle. When Ferrara saw the glimpse of the blade, he put a hand on the floor to hoist himself up, but Hannibal took a step towards him and clicked his tongue, advising against it. The man chose right, and stayed down, his breathing growing heavier and his muscles tensing._

_“We better than anyone understand that the scene is as important as the act itself. Without the aesthetics, it can be quite inelegant,” Will continued saying, raising to his feet with the knife in hand and settling beside Hannibal and in front of a confused Ferrara. “But tell me… Was it truly necessary to kill the pets?”_

_In that moment Ferrara’s eyes widened, realization washing over his features. He swallowed twice, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat._

_“Who the_ fuck _are you…?” Ferrara finally asked, straightening his back but not attempting to stand up yet._

_Will frowned a little and turned to Hannibal._

_“I honestly expected_ L’incubo di Roma _to have better manners,” Will said, flattening his tone as if he was truly disappointed._

_“You know what they say; money can’t buy manners.”_

_He smiled at Will and then Hannibal calmly started unbuttoning the jacket of his suit._

_“Who… are you,” Ferrara asked again, clenching his jaw as if to restrain himself from swearing again._

_“Mr. Ferrara, have you ever heard of_ Il Mostro di Firenze _?” Hannibal asked him while he went to the bar and folded his jacket before carefully leaving it on top of one of the stools. “It was many years ago, but I’m sure you should remember some of it.”_

_When he turned, he saw that Ferrara had made another attempt at standing up, since only one of his knees was on the floor now, but Will had drowned that idea raising his knife a little._

_“Of course,” the man answered grudgingly to Hannibal’s question. “He was later known as The Chesapeake Ripper in America...”_

_Hannibal came back to Will’s side, extending his hand and taking the knife. It was Will’s turn to take off the upper part of his suit so they would be able to move freely, and while he did that, they looked at Ferrara and raised an eyebrow at the same time. Finally, the man’s expression changed again, his eyes shifting from Will to Hannibal, realization washing over him for the second time in a short time._

_He had heard about him, as many people had, but most of them had not committed to memory the faces of the two men that had captured the news for some time two years back._

_“You two…?” he asked, looking at Will and Hannibal and shaking his head, as if that way he had any saying in whether they were or not who they were claiming to be._

_“Nice to meet you. It’s a shame that is under such circumstances. I would’ve liked to chat a little longer, but I see that your talents are a waste in a man like you,” he said, and Will shook his head a little while he went to leave his garment on one of the free stools, but Hannibal felt his amusement, too. “My dear,” he said, looking at Will when he returned to him, ”shall we?”_

_Hannibal offered Will his knife back, and he took it with half a smile. Then, they turned to Ferrara, and the man’s eyebrow and lip twitched._

_When both of them leapt towards the man, Ferrara stood up in a single movement and jumped towards the couch. He eluded their grip and fell clumsily on the other side, where he crawled towards the fireplace while Will and Hannibal circled the couch on both sides. The man grabbed the poker from the fireplace and wielded as if it was a sword, first pointing it to Will and then to Hannibal, who stopped with a smirk on his lips. At least, he wouldn’t go out without putting up a fight, and that Hannibal could admire, if merely for a second._

_“Back off, you motherfuckers!” the man yelled with wide-open eyes and switching back to Italian._

_“Come on, Mr. Ferrara... And here I thought you wanted us to get closer tonight,” Will teased him, gripping the knife’s handle tightly._

_Ferrara swung the poker against Will, and he had to jump to the side, the pointy end making contact with his shoulder and cutting him. Hannibal felt the wound on his own shoulder, and he bared his teeth as the man used the free path to run towards the doors._

_“I’m okay, go!” Will told him when Hannibal doubted whether go to him or to Ferrara. But he was right, and the wound didn’t seem too serious._

_Hannibal knelt for a second to take his own knife from his leg, and when he stood he saw out of the corner of his eye Will sitting up and examining his wound. Then, Hannibal went towards the door Ferrara had left open when he had escaped. He came into the lobby, hesitant whether to go upstairs or continue down the hallway, so he paused for a moment, tilting his head and listening to two things: Will finally standing up with a grunt, and muffled steps in one of the rooms ahead. Hannibal took his shoes off silently, and then he went to the hallway ahead._

_The room he found first was a dining room, very small compared to the other rooms he had seen and to the general proportions of the house. Ferrara was not there, so he continued towards the hallway, his feet making no noise at all in the cold marble that covered the floor in that part of the house. The next door led to a narrow bathroom, and Hannibal found the last door ajar. He opened it slowly and let his eyes scan the modern and probably mostly neglected kitchen. And there, he did hear a breathing, a second before a shadow moved in the left and launched an attack to him. Hannibal jumped forwards and rolled on the floor, turning as soon as he landed. Ferrara switched the kitchen lights on and then went towards him half grunting, half yelling, having replaced the poker with a cleaver._

_Hannibal stood up in time to dodge a couple of attacks, and after the third, he swung his own knife and cut though Ferrara’s clothes and skin in his chest. The man screamed, touching the wound and looking at the blood in his hand with a shocked expression, as if he wasn’t used to being the one at that end of the knife. He stumbled backwards and grabbed the edge of one of the counters, and Hannibal thought he was going to try to run away. That’s why he didn’t expect the next attack Ferrara launched; the man leaned against the counter and raised his leg, kicking Hannibal in the face with his foot. The blow threw Hannibal backwards, although he managed to remain standing. Ferrara had already recovered and tried to attack him with his blade again, so Hannibal staggered away of his reach. The man then used Hannibal’s unsteadiness to charge against him again, crashing his body against his and pushing both of them backwards. Hannibal hit one of the metal counters with the lower of his back, his knife escaping his grasp and being caged by Ferrara’s body and the table. He only had time to raise both hands and stop Ferrara’s arm with the cleaver right on top of his face, while the man grunted and tried to complete the intended movement of the blade._

_In that moment, Hannibal felt something and he smiled despite his situation. Ferrara’s eyes widened again and he screamed, losing all strength against Hannibal and stepping backwards. When Hannibal straightened and Ferrara stumbled away, Will finally entered his field of vision._

_“Took you long enough,” Hannibal told him, although his tone was not accusatory, but amused. A smile fluttered in his lips while he panted from the exertion._

_“I think you were handling him pretty well,” Will said, shrugging a little._

_Hannibal’s eyes went to his shoulder, where fabric and skin had been torn and a patch of blood was extending down his arm. And even though Hannibal could feel Will’s pain as his own and it wasn’t that strong, he couldn’t help the concern and the rage that washed over him._

_He focused his attention back to Ferrara, who was staggering out of the kitchen, and once they were recovered, they followed him after Hannibal had retrieved his knife. They walked calmly behind him as he made his way through another hallway, one that led to an ample room. The entire wall there was a glass with a single door that led to what looked like a terrace with a swimming pool. Ferrara was slowly walking away as he reached backwards with both hands, trying to grasp Will’s knife, which was deeply sank between the man’s shoulder blades in an uncomfortable spot for him._

_“Not much of a fighter when it’s not defenseless animals, are you?” Will accused him, both of them starting to circle their prey, as they liked to do._

_When Ferrara leaned against the wall near a small table with a phone, Will chuckled at his naïve attempt and pulled the phone’s plug out with a tug._

_The man, cornered against the wall, looked up at them and then tried to straighten up while he chuckled._

_“You know? The funny thing is, I was already planning on killing you. Maybe only one,” he said, looking at Hannibal, “maybe the two of you. You would’ve made a beautiful scene.”_

_“You should’ve been faster,” Hannibal said, unconcerned of a threat that came too late._

_In that moment, Hannibal noticed the subtle movement Ferrara did with one of his arms, dragging it backwards, but when he was going to go to him, the man groaned when he pulled the knife from his back. Ferrara lurched towards them, waving the blade and making them step back if only for a second. Hannibal gripped his own knife tighter and prepared himself to attack the second he found the opportunity, but once again, as he always did, Will surprised him. He suffocated Ferrara’s last attempt tackling him and sending him to the floor with a grunt when he hit the hard floor with his injured back. Will didn’t lose any time, so he straddled the man as soon as he could, and then he began hitting him over and over again, Ferrara’s face turning into a bloody and swollen mess._

_When he stopped, Hannibal tipped his head, trying to discern if the man was still breathing under all that blood. But Will wasn’t finished, not even close. He took his own knife, the one Ferrara had dug out his back, which had been in the now slack fingers of the man. Will gripped the handle with both hands and raised his arms._

_Hannibal couldn’t do anything at all but observe. Watch as Will let the rage he had amassed inside him guide his hand and knife. The rage he had felt every time he saw a new murder in the newspapers, a new body discovered, a new grotesque scene found by the victim’s loved ones. Hannibal stood there as he sensed Will’s fury leaving his body with each new strike against the man, with each grunt and growl._

_But he watched and didn’t intervene not only because this was Will’s prey, Hannibal’s gift for him… But also because he was so mesmerized by the scene taking place in front of him, that he did not dare to interrupt, as he would never pause Mozart’s Lacrimosa or stand up before the orchestra had finished a performance._

_But even if Hannibal did not dare to move a finger, the beautiful scene before him came to a stop after a moment that would be branded on his memory forever. When Will let both arms go still at his sides, panting and baring his teeth as if he was defying Ferrara to still be alive, he finally looked up at him. And in that moment, right there under the moonlight that came through the ample panes of glass, Hannibal fell in love with the man in front of him once again._

_The darkened blood almost seemed to shine in Will’s skin, the splatters painting a secret drawing in his face and clothes, and Hannibal had to swallow and open his mouth to be able to breathe properly._

_Will turned his attention back to the inert man, which he was still straddling, and surprising Hannibal one more time, Will stabbed the man’s chest again with a hard hit. He dragged the blade downwards, cutting a crooked line and then he reached inside the opening and took out the man’s heart. Hannibal felt the weight as if it was in his own hand, still warm, blood dripping out of it, but still and lifeless._

_“We’re not eating him…” Will said then, his voice sounding raw and hoarse, a natural thing after the feral grunts that had just come out of his throat._

_Hannibal’s lips curved a little upwards, feeling his disgust towards the man through the connection. Will let the organ fall from his hand, hitting its previous owner and rolling almost comically to the floor, leaving a crimson trail. Will finally got off Ferrara, dragging himself away from the body but not standing up yet. Hannibal could feel Will’s exhaustion, how that had drained him emotionally and physically. So instead of helping him up, Hannibal forced himself to finally move and he went to Will, kneeling beside him. Will was sitting on his heels, his chest still heaving and his whole body trembling a little._

_“He doesn’t deserve it,” Will whispered, closing his eyes. In that moment, Hannibal knew exactly what he meant. “He’s not worthy.”_

_“No, he’s not,” he agreed._

_They would not be making art out of Ferrara’s body. They would not be leaving a tableau for the police to find, because he was certainly not worthy of it. And besides, as far as Hannibal was concerned, Will had already made art out of the murder, his design laying on the floor a few steps away from them, being the blood splattered in his entire body and in Hannibal’s clothes, being the calm that had replaced the storm, like waves slowly licking at the sand after the sea had tried to swallow everything in its path._

_Hannibal finally raised his hands, cupping Will’s face. The other opened his eyes at the contact, and gave him a flickering smile._

_“All right?” Hannibal asked, even if he knew the answer._

_“Yes,” Will said. “I’m fine now.”_

_Hannibal swallowed again, still in awe, and then Will leaned in, letting their lips graze each other softly. Hannibal felt his heart thumping painfully inside his chest, and Will pulled back with a frown, feeling it through their connection._

_“Hannibal…?”_

_He just smiled in reply, reaching for Will’s hand and taking it as delicately as he could. He kissed his damaged knuckles, unconcerned about the blood merging with the one already in his own face from Ferrara’s blow._

_“Will…” he rolled Will’s hand and kissed his wrist, merely a brush of lips and breath. “My beautiful Will…”_

_“Hannibal.”_

_Will was already familiar with his unrelenting displays of affection towards him, but that time Hannibal’s heart was hammering inside his chest, his voice ragged and the torrent of feelings flooding the connection, so he felt Will’s concern reaching him._

_He looked up and cupped his face again, kissing his cheekbone._

_“My love…”_

_“Hannibal what is it, you’re scaring me.”_

_And indeed, Will’s heart was already beating as quickly as his own at not knowing what was happening to him, and not finding a clear answer when he expanded his mind to him. Hannibal smiled again, grazing Will’s cheek with his thumb when he pulled back a little to meet his eyes._

_“I’ve thought about this at length. I’ve planned it a million times, a million different ways,” Hannibal started saying, and Will frowned a little, but listened intently. “I wanted to make a route filled with memories, then I wanted to do it at home, every single day that I found you curled in the couch, reading, or every single time we lay down together in the garden, looking up at the stars. I wanted to do it last night at the restaurant, and today at lunch… but it never seemed like the perfect moment. But now I realize… Each and every one of those times_ was _the perfect moment. And I just can’t wait a second longer.”_

_“Hannibal-“_

_He smiled at the lump in Will’s throat, finally realizing what was happening, and a tear streamed down Hannibal’s face when he blinked._

_“I know that we don’t need a piece of paper to tell us just how conjoined we are. But, call me sentimental… it would truly be an honor if you accepted me as your husband. For real, this time.”_

_Will huffed a nervous laugh at his joke, but that was quickly drowned when Hannibal reached inside the pocket of his suit pants. He had of course kept it with him at all times, guarding the thought from the connection, but having it always present. He finally took out the little dark box and opened it before Will. Not wanting to miss anything, Hannibal looked at his face in the exact moment in which Will saw the ring; a silver band, yet with an irregular and darker surface around the center. Will’s mouth opened, but no sound came out of it, and when he looked from the ring to him, he noticed Will’s eyes were watery too, so Hannibal smiled again, his heart skipping a beat._

_“Will Graham… will you marry me?”_

_Will leaned forwards in a swift movement, crushing the ring’s box between them and kissing him, parting Hannibal’s lips immediately with his while Will took his face with both hands. Hannibal tasted the salty tears and the metallic taste of blood merging in their mouths, and he would’ve gladly died in that exact moment; an arm around the other’s waist, Will’s fingers grabbing at Hannibal’s hair, and their lips pressing the other as closely as they could._

_When they broke the kiss, Hannibal nuzzled Will’s jaw before pulling away, and then he smiled again._

_“So is that a yes?”_

_Will laughed once again, and nodded._

_“God, Hannibal… Of course it’s a yes.”_

_Hannibal’s smile widened in his lips as he finally took the ring from the box. He took the fake one off and then slid the real one into Will’s finger, staining it with the blood in both of their hands._

_Will immediately brushed it with his index finger, feeling the ridges in the center that wouldn’t be uncomfortable for him when he wore it, since Hannibal had made sure of it. The blood shone even brighter in the silvery surface._

_When they could move, they stood up helping each other, leaving the body and going upstairs leaning against the other. After entering in two different rooms, they found what they were looking for: an ample bathroom, with an equally ample shower._

_They undressed each other, although that time not driven by hunger. Their fingers peeled the clothes carefully so as to not hurt the other with the already drying blood, and once they were both naked, they dragged each other under the hot rain. The water immediately began washing away the blood, painting red rivulets from their hair and faces across their torso and down to their feet, where it merged with the swirling water and disappeared in the drain._

_Hannibal dragged his fingers across Will’s shoulder once the blood started to slide down, where Ferrara had managed to hit him with the poker. He had a horizontal thin red line, but Hannibal knew it would not leave a permanent scar, and that pleased him. That man didn’t deserve to leave an imprint on Will’s skin._

_Will then raised his hand and touched Hannibal’s bottom lip with a finger, and he felt the small wound from Ferrara’s blow. He had not felt anything before, too focused on Will and everything that had happened to care about the mild pain of his broken lip or the bruise that would surely be forming on his face._

_Hannibal took Will’s wrist delicately and took the finger that had been brushing his own lip into his mouth. Hannibal licked and then slowly sucked it, from his knuckles to the fingertips. Will stayed still under the water while he did this with each of his fingers, slowly wiping the remaining blood from them with lips and tongue. When he finished with a hand, he went for the other, but Will slid his now clean fingers to Hannibal’s nape and pulled him closer. Will pressed his tongue flat against Hannibal’s throat, and he closed his eyes and sensed the same metallic taste he felt in his mouth now in Will’s, licking the trail of blood up to his jaw._

_Hannibal caressed Will’s wet curls back and kissed his forehead. When he pulled back, he looked at him through lidded eyes, and they both smiled warmly at each other, not needing any words for what they were feeling in that moment. They kissed under the hot water, letting the rest of the blood disappear while they washed each other._

_When they went out of the bathroom, they found what looked like Ferrara and his wife’s bedroom. The walk-in closet inside the room was divided in half by the woman and the man’s clothes, and they went to that last space. Since the man’s build had been more similar to Will’s, Hannibal went through the larger clothes he could find, and Will chuckled when he discarded a sweatshirt with a theatrical shake of his head._

_Will waited for him outside when he finished, and when Hannibal finally got dressed and went out, he found Will standing in the middle of the room examining the clothes they had taken off before the shower._

_“I’m afraid the suit you gave me is ruined beyond repair…” Will said, turning the pants over as if he would discover that side in better shape._

_“Don’t worry about that… We’ll buy new suits, and that one has definitely served well,” Hannibal said, walking to him from the closet’s sliding doors. “And we still have the jackets downstairs.”_

_Will nodded with a smile, and then they picked up the rest of the clothes._

_They found a few bottles of gas in the garage, and Hannibal took them while Will got on the Maserati in which they had arrived and drove it outside the house’s fence. When he came back, Hannibal had already spilled a couple of bottles upstairs, and he was spreading the third across the kitchen and into the hallway when they converged again. Will just took another bottle, and together, they spilled the gas across the room in which Ferrara’s body lay still and the other rooms they had passed by briefly. When they entered in the first room they had been in, the one with the painting, they made a pause to retrieve their jackets from the bar’s stools. Will stopped before the painting once more, and Hannibal felt his displeasure again, the memory of the murders forever attached to that painting. But he also felt Will’s immediate relief at thinking that there would be no more of them._

_Hannibal found a lighter in the bar’s drawers, and once they were in the doorway, he unlocked the cap. Then, he held it to Will._

_“It’s yours,” Hannibal reminded him, leaning a little to him until their shoulders met. “Happy anniversary…”_

_Will took it with the hint of a smile in his lips. He looked one last time to the inside of the house, and then lit the lighter and threw it onto the lobby without hesitation. The flames immediately expanded across floor, walls and furniture, licking over the wood the fastest and hastily running upstairs._

_They went outside to remain safe, but once they were by the gates, they stopped once again to look back at the house; the black smoke was beginning to escape in spirals, and some of the flames were already starting to advance towards windows and doors._

_“Do you think they’ll realize who the_ L’incubo _was…? After this is broadcasted in every news and the murders abruptly stop…”_

_Hannibal looked at Will, who was staring at the house. He saw the orange light coming from the house reflected in his eyes, and he licked his own lips before talking._

_“Probably not. He left no trace in his murders, and we’re leaving absolutely nothing for them to find. Would you have preferred to leave the body, incriminate him…?” Hannibal asked, even though he knew if that were the case, Will would have said so. Burning the house to the ground had been an unspoken shared idea from the moment they had gone out of the shower._

_“No…” Will said, turning to look at him. “I think I prefer them not finding out. Nobody will ever know what he did, that the murders were his.”_

_Hannibal smiled a little and nodded. The nightmare of any serial killer; never being able to finalize his work._

_Will then looked down, raising his hand a little and brushing the ring with his fingers once again._

_“I love it,” he said then in a low voice. The flames from the house were already bright enough for Hannibal to distinguish the way Will’s features eased as he said it, and he felt his love flowing to him. “What is this in the center?”_

_Hannibal smiled again in anticipation; he had wondered how long it would take Will to notice that there was something particular with the ring, that it wasn’t any ring he had found in a catalogue._

_“Remember after we killed Buffalo Bill, before going out of the basement and the house, when I went to fetch you a blanket...?” he asked, and Will nodded slightly, because of course he remembered. “It’s not the only thing I took.”_

_Hannibal took Will’s hand in his and brought it closer to his mouth, where he brushed his lips over the ring once again. It was clean now from the blood, and the cool and irregular surface inevitably tugged at the smile in his lips, widening it._

_“I couldn’t resist taking the knife you used to kill him,” he finally confessed, looking at him._

_The memory had been buried deep inside his mind to protect it from the connection, knowing that one day he would want to see the surprise in Will’s eyes. And the effort had not disappointed, but now he could finally share it with Will. Hannibal expanded the evoked memory to the other. When he had gone to take a blanket from the mannequins’ room, he had seen the open door that led to the room in which they had killed Buffalo Bill together. And there it was, right beside the body: the knife Will had sank into the man’s flesh, the knife that had cut his throat and his life. The knife that had finally made Will accept himself wholeheartedly._

_“You…” Will started saying when the memory faded around them, blinking and looking from the ring to Hannibal. “You made the ring out of the blade.”_

_“The jeweler thought I was joking when I brought him the knife without the handle.”_

_Will chuckled imagining the situation, and grazed the ring again with a finger._

_“I can’t believe you…”_

_Will grabbed the shirt Hannibal was wearing and pulled him closer to kiss him again. Hannibal felt both of their hearts beating at the same rhythm, their tongues intertwining with the other as they parted their lips at the same time. When they pulled back out of breath, Will looked at him through heavy lidded eyes and a satisfied expression._

_“I still don’t know how we will do it,” Hannibal confessed to him, his hands gripping Will’s shirt at his waist. “I don’t know how we will do it officially… I wouldn’t want to marry you with anything else than your name, but I want even less to spend any second longer than necessary not being married to you.”_

_Will wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders and looked at him with a grin._

_“I’m sure we’ll find a way…” Will said, reminding him of what Hannibal used to tell him when things were far more complicated. When they still were separated physically but yet so closely linked to each other. “Like we always do. All right?”_

_“All right.”_

_Hannibal smiled broadly, and Will leaned forwards to meet his lips once again while the house burned behind them, neither one of them caring about anything else that wasn’t the other._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... wow. *takes a deep breath*  
> Firstly, I'm so sorry it took me so long to bring the epilogue. But it's finally here! :)
> 
> And before starting being all sentimental, a couple of things.
> 
> · Remember that I said I was writing another long Hannigram fic? Well, I've already started publishing it! It's called [A Fortunate Wound](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6177574/chapters/14153659), and it's an AU in which Hannibal and Will meet while they're still a surgeon and a police officer :)
> 
> · [Sirenja](http://sirenja-and-the-stag.tumblr.com/) made this incredibly beautiful [edit](http://sirenja-and-the-stag.tumblr.com/post/138794639148/sensates-by-starkaryen-hello-hearing-the-voice) and [gifset](http://sirenja-and-the-stag.tumblr.com/post/139179685448/hannigram-au-sensates-by-starkaryen-hello) (which are included in the first chapter's notes, including a gorgeous gif :_) ) for the fic. I already thanked you, but seriously, I flail every time I see them :_)
> 
> · One of you -I think it was [Laura3C273](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura3C273/) but I could be mistaken?- asked me if I would write timestamps from this fic after finishing this. My answer then was that, most probably, I wouldn't be doing that. BUT, I have to say that my answer now has changed. I can't promise anything, but I can say that I _probably_ will be writing some timestamps. I can't say when, but I already have a few ideas, and I just can't say goodbye to this story, not completely. So yes, there's a strong possibility there will be more of Sensates in the near future :)
> 
> \---
> 
> Wow. I... seriously can't believe I'm already writing the Epilogue's notes. It really seems like a couple of days ago when I was watching Sense8 and I suddenly thought "hey, this would be an amazing AU for Hannigram, all the possibilities!!!" I immediately opened my conversation with [redkakumei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/redkakumei/) and I told her, and her response was immediate: 'you have to write this'. I was like, pfft, sure, what else. But she was SERIOUSLY convinced that I had to. So we started talking about what would happen in the AU, the possible plots, how the connection would evolve, how we could use Will's encephalitis to make him believe he wasn't real at first, how we could even introduce Silence of the Lamb's plot into it... A couple of days, many messages and voice messages later, what was a mess of many MANY ideas started taking form, and I was a little scared, because it did NOT look like it would be short. But I still started writing it, and together we devised the plot as I wrote it. Suffice it to say, even though I've already said it before... without her, this wouldn't exist and even so, I obviously couldn't have written this monster without her. Thank you SO much for staying with me, for being my paddle, the Hannibal to my Will, my puppeteer :_) ♥♥
> 
> I also did not expect at all the response the story had when I first started publishing it. I assumed some people could probably be interested, and maybe some would like it. What I did not expect is how amazing you all have been.  
> This story has truly meant SO much to me, like, really. I've poured a lot from myself into it and I've come to love it so much... So I want to thank everyone who has read it. I want to thank all of you who have left a single comment, those who have commented on every single chapter, those who told me something at all, it really means the world to me, seriously. Thanks to those who recommended it somewhere, on tumblr, twitter or anywhere at all. Thanks to those who left a kudo, too, just thank you.  
> I also want to thank Ele, Sara, Adi, Steffi, Sanny, Chiara. And basically ALL of you, if you're reading this, if you stayed from the beginning through almost 200k words, if you've binge-read it or if you're reading this in the future. **THANK. YOU.**
> 
> I'm sure I'm probably forgetting something, but I think that's it for now. I hope this epilogue has been a satisfying ending for this fic.
> 
> And once again...  
> Thank you♥

**Author's Note:**

> \----
> 
> All information + links about my writing are [here](https://about.me/mizumohno)..
> 
> Say hello to me @ [twitter](https://twitter.com/mizumohno) and [tumblr](http://starkaryen.tumblr.com/) :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Through The Looking Glass (There's Another Me And You)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6410290) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account)




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